AT  CAPE  PERIL 


Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air  Books 


The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 
At  Cape  Peril 


The 

Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

At  Cape  Peril 


BY 
GORDON  STUART 


Frontispiece  by  Harry  W.  Armstrong 


The  Reilly  &  Lee  Co. 
Chicago 


Copyright,  1921 

By 
The  Reilly  &  Lee  Co. 


Made  in  V.  8.  A* 


The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air  at  Cape  Peril 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     STARTING  THE  ADVENTURE 9 

n.    JUMPING  OFF  AT  CAPE  HENRY 28 

III.  THE    JAMBOREE 43 

IV.  CAPE  PERIL  's  JOLLY  HERMIT 59 

V.     THE  INTERRUPTED  MESSAGE 77 

VI.     THE  HAUNTS  OF  BUFFALO  DARE 92 

VII.     THE  BIRD  HAD  FLOWN 102 

VHI.     PLUGGING    A    MAN-EATER 113 

IX.     WARNINGS  IN  THE  AIR 126 

X.     TREASURE    TROVE 133 

XI.       HOW    THE    AlRBUG    STARTED 148 

XII.     THE  CAPE  PERIL  LIGHT  Is  OUT 163 

XIII.  RESCUE  THROUGH  THE   STORM 171 

XIV.  CAP'N  BUFFUM'S  REVELATIONS 180 

XV.     CAT  FINDS  A  KEY 189 

XVI.     CAT  IN  AMBUSH 197 

XVII.     HARDY  STRIKES  A  HOT  TRAIL 203 

XVIII.     THE  NIGHT  RIDERS. 215 

XIX.     KNITTING  UP  THE  CLUES 222 

XX.     COMPARING  NOTES 227 

XXL     THE  SKIPPER  FILLS  THE  GAPS 237 

XXII.     THE  TRIALS  OF  CAP'N  BUFFUM 242 

XXIII.  EXIT  THE  SEABOARD  AIRLINE  PATROL.  .251 


20; 


The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 
At  Cape  Peril 

CHAPTER  I 

STABTINQ     THE     ADVENTUBE 

In  the  second  car  of  an  electric  train  racket- 
ing on  its  way  to  the  seashore,  sat  three  boys 
in  scout  costume.  Two  sat  side  by  side,  while 
the  third,  twisted  around  in  the  seat  just  in 
front,  was  facing  them  and  talking  with  an  ani- 
mation that  arrested  the  attention  and  excited 
the  merriment  of  the  non-scout  passengers  near 
him. 

"  I  say,  it's  a  shame  to  make  a  catfish  travel 
on  a  motorcycle  while  you  two  landlubbers  take 
the  Seaboard  Airline  to  Cape  Peril." 

The  speaker's  fascinatingly  homely  face  was 
almost  sliced  in  two  by  a  capacious  mouth,  which, 
when  open,  revealed  snaggly  teeth  with  gaps 


10  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

between,  the  whole  effect  offering  a  ludicrous 
resemblance  to  the  denizen  of  the  deep  he  had 
just  mentioned. 

"  Well,  we  matched  for  the  airplane  rides, 
didn't  we?  "  retorted  a  round-eyed,  smooth- 
cheeked  youngster,  whose  slender  figure,  when 
erect,  must  have  been  at  least  six  feet  one. 
"  Take  your  medicine  like  a  scout  and  close 
up  that  Mammoth  Cave  of  yours. " 

"  That's  right,  Legs,  hand  it  to  him  good  and 
straight,"  approved  the  companion  by  his  side, 
dark  of  hair,  swarthy  of  complexion,  stocky 
in  build,  and  a  good  foot  and  a  half  shorter 
than  the  other.  "  Nothing's  ever  settled  with 
Cat  Miller.  Might  know  his  daddy  was  a 
politician.  Button  up  your  mouth,  Cat,  button 
up  your  mouth." 

Regardless  of  this  admonition,  Cat  grinned 
like  a  Billikin  and  then  came  back,  "  That's 
all  right,  Legs  Hatton,  you  and  Jimmy  Todd, 
you  better  take  a  lesson  from  my  dad  and  from 
me  too.  I  got  you  fellows  this  trip,  didn't  I?  " 

"  Doggone  right  you  did,"  conceded  Jimmy, 
speedily  changing  his  tone  to  one  of  apprecia- 
tion, "  and,  Cat,  old  boy,  you're  some  getter! 


At  Cape  Peril  11 

A  fellow  doesn't  get  a  treat  like  this  every  day. 
Gee!  It's  great  to  go  camping  without  having 
to  take  a  thing  along  except  one  little  knapsack 
full,  and  to  be  able  to  chase  around  all  day 
with  nothing  on  but  trunks!  We'll  be  regular 
Indians.  Won't  take  us  long  to  look  as  sweet 
as  we  did  when  we  got  home  from  school  after 
scrapping  through  that  Paradise  Alley  gang. 
Eemember  that  bunch,  Cat?  "  Jimmy  grinned 
at  his  friend. 

"  Do  I?  Well,  I  should  smile.  Look  here, 
see  this  little  souvenir  over  my  left  eye  one 
of  those  suckers  handed  me  with  a  brickbat? 
I  reckon  I  do  remember  'em." 

11  Ye-ah,  and  I  tried  to  stop  the  blood  with 
a  piece  of  brown  paper  while  you  were  yelling 
like  murder,"  returned  Jimmy,  glowing  with 
these  memories  of  his  early  youth,  "  and  gee! 
When  I  got  home,  Mother  wanted  to  know  why 
in  thunder  I  was  so  bloody,  and  I  asked  her 
how  she  expected  a  fellow  to  keep  clean  when 
he  had  to  fight  his  way  from  school  every  day 
through  a  gang  of  hoboes.  Gosh!  those  Para- 
dise Alleycats  were  lulus.  A  white  collar  and 
a  clean  shirt  set  th»se  guys  wild,  same  as  a 


12  The  Boy  Scouts  -of  the  Air 

red  rag  does  a  bull.  Redhot  times  those  were, 
you  bet." 

"  Pretty  lively  times  now,"  remarked  Legs 
soberly.  "  Going  up  in  an  airplane  ain't  so 
slow.  Say,  Cat,  pity  about  you!  " 

Cat  winked  one  eye  and  then  the  other  and 
grinned  knowingly  as  if  he  were  possessed  of 
an  important  and  highly  amusing  secret  which 
he  was  inwardly  enjoying. 

"  Look  here,  fellows,"  he  said  finally,  "I'm 
not  sore  because  you  two  drew  the  plane  this 
time."  And  then  he  added  in  a  low  and  myste- 
rious tone,  "  Know  sump  thin'?  I've  been  up  in 
one  already. ' ' 

"  Yes,  you  have!  "  returned  Jimmy  sarcastic- 
ally. "  Over  the  left!  " 

"  Yes,  I  have/'  affirmed  Cat  staunchly.  "I 
cross  my  heart,  and  I  can  prove  it  just  as  soon 
as  we  get  back  to  town." 

Jimmy  snorted  derision. 

"  Come  off,  Cat,"  objected  Legs.  "  You  know 
you  couldn't  have  kept  that  secret  five  minutes." 

"  Believe  it  or  not,  I  don't  give  a  hang," 
snapped  Cat  sourly,  "  but  listen  to  this,  will 
you?  " 


At  Cape  Peril  13 

"  Shoot!  "  directed  Jimmy,  who  began  to 
be  interested  despite  his  incredulity. 

Legs  cocked  his  head  on  one  side  and  screwed 
up  his  eyes  as  if  to  hear  a  Munchausen  fable. 

"  Know  that  guy  that  flew  people  over  town 
for  fifteen  bucks  a  fly?  Well,  every  afternoon 
I  used  to  trot  out  to  his  field  and  hang  around 
watching  him.  After  a  while,  I  got  to  talking 
planes  and,  when  he  found  I  wasn't  any  bone- 
head  on  flyers,  he  gave  me  a  lot  of  new  dope. 
I'd  spent  'bout  ten  afternoons  hanging  around 
when  he  said  day  before  yesterday,  *  Look  here, 
young  fellow,  how'd  you  like  to  take  a  little 
sky  ride?  Business  seems  to  be  slack,  so  I 
might  as  well  make  you  happy.'  My  heart 
turned  a  somerset,  but  I  looked  kind  of  shy  and 
said,  *  Haven't  got  the  price,  but  I'd  give  my 
head  to  go  up.'  *  How  much  have  you  in  your 
jeans?  '  he  asked  me.  Then  I  said,  *  Two  bits 
and  a  jit.'  «  All  right,'  he  said,  *  I'll  take  that. 
Come  along.'  Course  he  was  just  fooling  about 
the  dough.  Then  he  remembered  and  wanted 
to  know  if  I  could  get  permission  from  home 
right  quick.  Quick  as  lightning,  I  reached  down 
in  my  pants  and  fished  out  a  note  from  the 


14  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

old  man  saying  I  could  go  any  old  time  I  got 
a  chance.  He  laughed  like  the  mischief,  and 
said  I  was  some  slick  kid  and  wouldn't  have  to 
have  anybody  to  lead  me  'round  the  world. 
You  see,  fellows,  I  knew  I  was  going  to  work  it 
sooner  or  later,  so,  to  save  time,  I  got  dad  the 
first  night  to  write  me  a  note  saying  I  could 
go.  Gee!  You  ought  to  have  seen  him  grin,  and 
he  said  if  I  could  get  a  fifteen  dollar  ride  for 
a  little  scrap  of  paper,  I  sure  would  make  a 
killing  as  a  lawyer  when  I  grew  up.  Well,  I 
got  my  fly,  and  great  day,  man!  Talk  about 
fun!  " 

As  Cat  paused  at  this  point  for  the  applause 
of  his  audience,  he  gave  Jimmy  a  chance  to  get 
in  a  word. 

"  Swear  this  is   so?  " 

"  If  it's  not,  I  hope  I  may  be  struck  dead 
right  this  minute.  What  would  I  want  to  fool 
you  for?  " 

"  Gee,  man!  "  was  Legs's  fervent  exclamation. 

"  Well,"  declared  Jimmy,  "  you  sure  did 
do  us  a  dirty  trick  not  telling  us  sooner.  We 
fellows  might  have  pulled  off  that  stunt  like 
you  did." 


At  Cape  Peril  15 

"  I  don't  see  how  that  big  mouthed  buzzard 
managed  to  keep  it  in  this  long,  that's  what 
gets  my  goat,"  observed  Legs. 

Cat  grinned.  "  You  bet  I'd  'a  spread  it  all 
over  this  U.  S.  A.  if  he  hadn't  made  me  promise 
to  keep  it  on  the  q.  t.  till  he  got  away.  Said 
he  didn't  want  to  be  pestered,  and  he  didn't 
expect  to  ride  a  single  'nother  kid  free.  See? 
Well,  he's  pulling  out  to-day  just  about  this 
time,  so  I  can  loosen  up  on  it.  See?  " 

"  Golly,  Cat!  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  now  fully 
convinced  and  looking  at  the  new  birdman  with 
undisguised  admiration.  "  Say,  fellow,  what  did 
it  feel  like?  " 

To  his  intensely  absorbed  scout  audience,  not 
to  mention  certain  grown  individuals  on  the  side 
lines,  he  recounted,  in  his  most  humorous  style, 
his  varied  sensations  and  experiences  during 
the  flight. 

"  Is  Mr.  Hardy  just  as  good  a  pilot  as  that 
one?  "  asked  Legs  eagerly,  after  Cat  was  appar- 
ently on  the  point  of  exhausting  his  narrative. 

"  Big  sight  better,"  he  asserted. 

"  How  did  your  father  get  in  with  him?  " 
queried  Jimmy. 


16  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

11  Listen!  You  know  Father  he's  had  air- 
planes on  the  brain  ever  since  the  Wright  broth- 
ers pulled  off  their  experiments  on  the  North 
Carolina  coast  way  back  yonder  before  we  were 
born.  He's  read  every  darn  thing  he  could  lay 
his  hands  on  about  flying.  He's  been  up  every 
time  he  could  beg  or  buy  an  air  ride,  and,  when 
the  war  came  on,  he  was  crazy  as  a  Junebug  to 
get  in  as  a  pilot,  but  of  course  he  got  turned 
down  because  he  was  too  old  and  his  eyes  are 
bum.  See?  Well,  while  he  was  fooling  and 
fussing  around  trying  to  buck  into  the  service, 
he  ran  across  Hardy  and  they've  been  buddies 
ever  since,  though  my  dad's  about  twenty  years 
older.  Now,  my  old  man  is  some  horse  pulling 
wires.  See?  And  when  he  heard  about  that 
N.  C.  Topographical  Coast  Survey,  his  pull 
landed  the  job  for  Hardy  —  I  call  him  Tom 
behind  his  back." 

' '  State  Top  —  what  ?  Whew !  ' '  whistled 
Jimmy.  "  Jimmy,  that's  a  jawbreaker." 

"  You  can  listen,  but  don't  try  to  handle," 
proclaimed  Cat  with  mock  solemnity.  "  Now, 
listen  some  more  and  I'll  teach  you  something. 
You  know  surveyors  used  to  trot  all  over  the 


At  Cape  Peril  17 

country  with  rods  and  a  lot  of  junk  and  take 
about  five  years  to  survey  one  measly  little 
county.  Well,  now  an  aviator  and  a  photog- 
rapher can  go  up  and  take  views  with  the  camera 
upside  down,  and  in  an  hour  or  two  the  job's 
done.  Get  me?  Well,  that's  the  stunt  Tom  does 
on  the  Carolina  coast,  and  a  fellow  named  Tur- 
ner, who  is  with  him,  does  the  camera  work. 
They're  bunking  at  Cape  Peril  till  they  finish 
around  there  and  then  they'll  move  on  some- 
where else.  Father  hooked  that  job  for  him 
and  he  thought  it  would  tickle  the  old  man  to 
invite  me  down.  He  sent  word  for  me  to  pick 
two  good  old  scouts  for  company,  so  you  two 
rummies  are  my  pickings.  See!  " 

"  Pretty  good  pickings,  too,  eh,  Legs?  " 
observed  Jimmy.  "  Sure  your  daddy's  going 
to  stop  and  bring  us  home  in  his  yacht?  " 

"  That's  what  he  promised,"  said  Legs. 
"  He'll  let  us  know  by  the  wireless  Cat  says 
they've  got  at  Cape  Peril.  This  is  the  eight- 
eenth, isn't  it?  He  ought  to  be  leaving  Tam- 
pico  right  about  this  time,  but  he's  going  to 
stop  by  Cuba  for  a  couple  of  days  or  so." 

11  Bet  he's   been  having  a   swell   time   down 


18  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

there,"  affirmed  Cat.  "  You're  the  slowest 
rummy  I  ever  saw.  Why  in  the -name  o'  Heck 
didn't  you  make  him  take  you  with  him?  Bet 
your  life,  I'd  gone  if  my  dad  had  a  clipper." 

"  Nothing  doing!  "  returned  Legs.  "  It's 
something  secret  —  about  oil.  He  couldn't  take 
any  of  the  family  —  only  his  friends.  Dad  sure 
is  good  to  his  friends.  He  wants  'em  to  put  a 
lot  o'  money  in  oil  lands  down  there." 

'  *  Gee !  I  wish  my  daddy  had  a  yacht, ' '  sighed 
Cat  comically,  "  then  I  wouldn't  have  to  go 
down  on  that  blamed  motorcycle  with  the  coast 
guard.  Wish  Turner  had  brought  the  hydro- 
plane up." 

"  Jiminy!  have  they  got  a  hydro  down  there, 
too?  "  asked  Jimmy  excitedly. 

"  Sure  they  have.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that? 
An  airplane  rigged  up  in  a  life  preserver,  that's 
what  it  looks  like  to  me.  They  use  it  to  survey 
the  sounds  and  creeks  around  Cape  Peril.  Oh 
my,  oh  me,  I  see  where  I  get  a  ride  every  day. 
You  fellows,  too,  if  you  don't  lose  your  nerve 
flying  down  to  Seagulls'  Nest." 

"  Bet  your  sweet  life,  here's  one  scout  that 
won't,"  asserted  Jimmy  valiantly. 


At  Cape  Peril  19 

Legs,  for  the  moment,  was  silent,  thinking 
deeply. 

"  And  fellows,  you  know  they  used  to  use 
seaplanes  in  the  war  to  hunt  for  submarines," 
explained  Cat. 

"  The  mischief  you  say!  "    This  from  Jimmy. 

"  Sure!  The  subs,  even  when  they  were  'way 
down  deep,  made  sort  of  rings  on  the  top  of 
the  water,  and  the  flyers  could  spy  'em  out  with 
the  airplanes,  and  find  out  where  to  drop  the 
depth  bombs  and  blow  the  stuffings  out  of  them. ' ' 

"  Golly!  "  exclaimed  Jimmy. 

"  I  bet  you  can't  guess  what  they  use  them 
for  now?  "  Cat  persisted  with  his  instruction 
of  his  friends. 

"  Search  me!  "  returned  Jimmy. 

"  Use  'em  to  look  for  shoals  of  fish  that  make 
pretty  much  the  same  sort  of  circles  that  sub- 
marines do.  When  the  flyer  sees  'em  he  signals 
to  the  fishermen  where  to  net  'em.  How's  that?  " 

"  Sounds  fishy!  "  joked  Jimmy. 

11  Oh,  mush!  Is  that  the  best  you  can  do?  " 
came  from  the  disgusted  Cat.  "  I  don't  waste 
any  more  breath  on  mutts  like  you.  You'd  just 
as  soon  spring  that  rotten  joke  about  the  fish- 


20  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

ermen  and  the  salmon.  They  eat  all  they  can, 
and  what  they  can't,  they  can.' 

"  Oh,  no,"  denied  Jimmy,  "  I  canned  that 
joke  along  with  the  other  stale  one  about  the 
lightship.  Remember  it!  You  tell  a  rube  they 
raise  all  the  vegetables  they  eat  on  that  boat. 
Then  the  boob  pops  his  eyes,  and  you  explain 
they  raise  'em  from  the  row  boat  onto  the 
deck." 

"  Bury  all  those  chestnuts  and  bury  'em 
deep,"  directed  Cat,  with  a  pained  expression. 
11  But,  say,  that  reminds  me — " 

"  Just  one  more,"  interrupted  Jimmy.  "  This 
is  a  bird  for  Legs.  Say,  Legs,  know  how  long  a 
fellow's  legs  ought  to  be?  Don't  know?  Here's 
the  answer.  Just  long  enough  to  reach  from  his 
body  to  the  ground.  Hear  that  joke  crack?  " 

Jimmy  pounded  Legs,  delightedly. 

"  Put  him  out!  "  shouted  Legs,  at  the  same 
time  giving  his  chum  a  shove  that  nearly  landed 
him  in  the  passageway.  "You  cribbed  that  joke 
from  Adam.  I  heard  that  before  you  were 
born." 

"  Bury  that,  too,"  directed  Cat,  when  Jimmy 
had  righted  himself  and  was  trying,  in  revenge 


At  Cape  Peril  21 

for  the  upset,  to  flatten  Legs's  head  against  the 
window  frame. 

''And  listen  here,"  he  added,  as  if  seized  by 
a  sudden  inspiration.  "  Did  you  boys  know  that 
Blackboard  used  to  scout  around  Cape  Peril? 
Tell  you  what!  Maybe  we'll  run  across  some 
buried  treasure  down  there  —  doubloons  and 
pieces-of-eight,  shiver  my  timbers." 

"  Who  in  thunder  is  Blackbeard?  "  asked 
Jimmy,  becoming  interested  at  once. 

"  Gee!  You  never  heard  of  Blackbeard? 
He  was  a  fe-rocious  pirate  whose  real  name  was 
Teach,  from  over  in  Accomac  county  on  the 
Eastern  Shore.  He  raised  Cain  with  the  mer- 
chant boats  on  the  Virginia  coast  till  the  sea 
cops  got  on  his  tracks  and  he  had  to  light  out 
to  Albemarle  Sound.  He  operated  down  there 
for  a  while,  till  a  ship  from  up  this  way  jumped 
his  boat  and  killed  most  of  his  men,  and  I  bet 
you  something  pretty  that  those  who  got  away 
hid  their  coin  on  the  shore  somewhere.  Wouldn't 
it  be  funny  if  we  ran  across  some  of  it?  " 

1 '  You  're  right  it  would !  Where  did  you  see 
that,  Cat,  in  the  newspaper?  "  queried  Jimmy. 

"  Golly    Moses,    Jimmy.      You    think    you're 


22  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

funny.  You  know  that  was  about  two  hundred 
years  ago." 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  asserted  Jimmy.  "  I  didn't 
know  I  was  pulling  a  bone,  swear  I  didn't." 

Visions  of  adventures  began  to  float  through 
the  lads'  fancies. 

"  Oh,  ye-ah,  I  remember!  "  exclaimed  Legs 
with  sudden  enthusiasm.  "  Teach?  By  Jebo, 
he's  the  very  fellow  Stevenson  —  you  know,  the 
guy  who  wrote  Kidnapped  and  Treasure  Island 
—  tells  about  in  The  Master  of  .  .  .  Oh, 
shucks!" 

"  Master  of  Oh  Shucks!  "  jeered  Cat. 

"Of  Ball  —  Ball  —  Ball, ' '  Legs  stumbled, 
"  Oh  yes,  I  know,  The.  Master  of  Ballantre.  The 
guy  supposed  to  be  telling  the  yarn  was  cap- 
tured by  pirates  who  ran  up  the  black  flag  and 
made  the  skipper  and  'most  all  the  crew  of  the 
captured  ship  walk  the  plank,  all  except  two  or 
three.  Then  Teach  blacked  up  his  face  and  curled 
his  hair  in  rings  and  crammed  his  mouth  full 
of  glass  and  chewed  it  to  make  himself  spit 
blood.  Then  he  stuck  his  belt  full  of  pistols 
and  brandished  a  dirk  and  cussed  a  blue  streak 
— pulled  off  a  regular  bughouse  parade  up  and 


At  Cape  Peril  23 

down  the  deck,  swearing  he  was  Satan  and  that 
his  ship  was  called  'Hades.'  He  wasn't  any 
chocolate  sundae  pirate,  he  wasn't.  He  was  a 
genu-wine  blood-and-thunder  guy,  he  was.'* 

At  this  violent  explosion  from  the  mild-eyed, 
velvet-cheeked  Legs,  the  other  two  scouts  broke 
into  a  roar. 

"  Oh,  Legs,  naughty  boy,  ain't  you  ashamed 
of  yourself?  "  mocked  Jimmy. 

"  Got  it  all  wrong,  too,"  added  Cat.  "  The 
saphead  didn't  see  the  note  that  said  it  wasn't 
the  same  Blackbeard  who  scouted  in  these  parts. 
Why  don't  you  take  a  squint  down  in  the  cellar 
when  you  are  reading?  Then  you  find  what 
they  say  upstairs  ain't  so." 

"Ah,  get  out!  Hanged  if  I  saw  it,"  declared 
the  muddled  Legs.  "  Don't  believe  it  was 
there,  either.  Anyhow,  I  don't  see  why  they 
want  to  stick  in  junk  like  that  to  spoil  a  dandy 
good  story." 

"Hello,  Central!"  called  Cat  into  his  fist, 
raised  to  his  mouth  to  represent  a  telephone. 
"  Give  me  Legs's  top  story.  How's  the  weather 
up  there,  Legs?  Foggy  as  usual?  I  thought  so." 

"  Don't  cry,  Legs,"  laughed  Jimmy.    "You'll 


24  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

forget  it  before  you're  a  hundred.  See  here, 
fellows,  the  pirate  business  is  s^rt  of  on  the 
blink  now,  but  I  certainly  would  like  to  spend 
about  two  years  sailing  around  the  world.  That's 
a  long  sight  better  education  than  what  you  get 
in  books.  But  blessed  if  I  want  to  swab  decks. 
You  can't  look  at  the  scenery  and  study  the 
customs  of  the  natives  while  you  are  splicing 
ropes  and  splashing  water  around  all  day.  Won- 
der if  they'd  take  me  on  one  of  these  pleasure 
yachts  as  an  entertainer.  I  can  play  the  guitar 
and  do  card  tricks — " 

"That's  right,  Jimmy,"  interrupted  Legs, 
now  recovering  his  usual  good  humor,  "  blow 
off  to  hear  yourself  talk.  But  tell  you  what's 
a  fact.  If  you  can  speak  'steen  languages,  you 
can  get  a  fat  job  on  'most  any  old  ship.  Easy 
berth,  too.  Father  picked  up  a  fellow  in  New- 
port News  who  can  tie  Spanish  up  in  a  bow 
knot,  believe  me,  and,  as  Father  can't  talk  any- 
thing much  but  American,  he  is  giving  him  all 
sorts  of  money  just  to  help  him  chin  the 
Greasers  down  there  in  Mexico." 

"  That  straight?  "  said  Jimmy.  "  Gee!  I 
sure  will  take  that  Spanish  course  in  High 


At  Cape  Peril  25 

School  next  session,  and  when  I  get  up  on  it, 
I'll  run  down  and  open  an  airplane  factory  in 
Brazil." 

"  Come  off,  they  don't  speak  Spanish  in 
Brazil,  nut,"  corrected  Legs.  "They  talk  Por- 
tuguese. ' ' 

"All  right,  then.  Can't  phaze  me.  I'll  go  on 
to  Bonus  Airs." 

"Huh!  Reckon  you  do  need  some  Spanish! 
Bonus  Airs!  "  sneered  Legs.  , 

"  What  is  it  if  that  ain't  right!  "  insisted 
Jimmy. 

Legs  scratched  his  head,  but  apparently  with- 
out extracting  any  information  therefrom. 

"  Tell  you  the  truth,  I've  forgotten,  but  I'm 
dead  certain  you're  a  million  miles  off.  I  knor 
that  much." 

"  Huh-huh-huh-huh!  "  grunted  Jimmy.  "  Bet- 
ter find  out  something  yourself  before  you  try 
to  give  me  lessons." 

"  I  know  what  it  is,"  announced  Cat,  who  had 
just  been  in  consultation  with  a  gentleman  in  the 
seat  in  front;  "  it's  Bwanus  I-res,  and  it's  the 
capital  of  Argentine  Republic." 

"You  fudged,  Cat,"  detected  Jimmy,  almost 


26  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

sticking  his  accusing  finger  in  Cat's  eye.  "  I 
saw  you  get  the  dope.  Can't  put  that  over 
on  us." 

The  informer  smiled  over  his  newspaper,  while 
Cat  twisted  his  mouth  ludicrously.  "  Any  way,  I 
did  it,"  he  protested. 

"  Give  you  a  dime  to  do  it  again,"  Jimmy 
baited  him. 

' '  Don 't  you  know  Shakespeare  never  repeats, ' ' 
said  Cat,  with  sham  solemnity. 

"  But  Shakespeare's  cat  does,"  retorted 
Jimmy.  "Cat,  you  are  some  fraud.  Know 
where  you  are  going?  " 

"Anyway,  I've  got  a  return  ticket.  Say, 
boys,"  he  suddenly  shouted,  "we're  there!  " 

Instantly  six  eager  eyes,  which  had  been  giv- 
ing but  fleeting  attention  to  the  familiar  sand 
dunes  along  the  seashore,  were  focused  on  two 
landmarks  just  ahead,  indicating  the  end  of  the 
first  leg  of  their  journey.  One  was  the  century- 
and-a-half-old  stone  lighthouse,  now  in  disuse; 
the  other,  its  modern  successor  whose  revolving 
light  at  night  guides  a  host  of  seacraft  through 
the  great  strait  between  Cape  Charles  and  Cape 
Henry. 


At  Cape  Peril  27 

"  Knapsacks  up,"  yelled  Jimmy.  "  Hurrah, 
all  off  for  the  Cape!  " 

In  wild  excitement,  each  lad  grabbed  up  the 
slim  roll  of  luggage  lying  at  his  feet,  made  for 
the  door  and  bounded  out  upon  the  sand.  To 
the  right  was  the  vast  blue  Atlantic;  and  to  the 
left,  over  the  sand  hills,  the  shores  of  the  Bay 
of  Lynnhaven,  ancient  site  of  the  Indian  village 
of  the  Chesapeakes,  where,  in  the  year  1607, 
the  doughty  adventurers  from  the  good  ships 
Susan  Constant,  Goodhope,  and  Discovery,  made 
their  first  landing  before  sailing  on  to  what  was 
to  be  the  first  permanent  settlement  of  the 
English  in  the  New  World,  the  famous  founda- 
tion on  the  island  of  Jamestown. 


CHAPTER  II 

JUMPING    OFF    AT    CAPE    HENBY 

"  WeU,  fellows,  here  I  am!  " 

It  was  a  hearty,  ringing  voice  that  struck  the 
boys'  ears  as  its  owner,  whose  every  movement 
proclaimed  the  perfect  coordination  of  the  mus- 
cles beneath  his  aviator  costume,  strode  along 
the  station  platform  to  greet  his  young  visitors. 
A  firm-set  chin,  brown  eyes  with  wrinkles  of 
perpetual  good  humor  about  them,  a  high  fore- 
head, a  wholesome,  tanned  skin,  a  boyish  shock 
of  brown  hair  with  a  pronounced  cowlick  —  this 
was  Tom  Hardy's  outer  man.  At  first  sight, 
Legs  and  Jimmy  lost  all  awe  of  him. 

As  Cat  rushed  up,  the  airman  seized  the  boy's 
hand  in  such  a  viselike  grasp  that  the  victim 
squirmed,  "  ouched,"  and  yelled  for  mercy. 

"  Why  not  introduce  me  to  your  chums,  Mutt 
and  Jeff?  "  demanded  the  host. 

11  Doggone  it,  how  can  I  when  you're  mash- 
ing every  bone  in  my  flipper?  "  cried  Cat,  still 
writhing.  "  Lenune  go,  will  you?  " 


At  Cape  Peril  29 

"  Just  showing  you  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you. 
There  now." 

Tom  Hardy  beamed  on  the  three  boys. 

Cat,  released  but  still  nursing  his  crumpled 
hand,  proclaimed  in  the  tone  of  a  circus  barker, 
as  he  nodded  at  his  lanky  companion,  "  This 
sawed-off  fellow  here  is  William  Madison  Mose- 
ley  Hatton,  known  for  short  as  Legs." 

"  With  that  name,  no  wonder  he's  stunted," 
laughed  Hardy,  at  the  same  time  giving  Legs  a 
hearty  clap  on  the  shoulder,  instead  of  the 
dreaded  handshake. 

"  And  this,"  proceeded  Cat,  indicating  Jimmy, 
"  the  tallest  specimen  of  scout  out  of  captivity, 
is  named  Jimmy  Todd.  If  he  ever  sported  a 
middle  name  he's  lost  it,  and  he's  shed  every 
nickname  we  fellows  ever  gave  him.  First,  we 
called  him  '  Tadpole  ';  then,  when  he  shot  up 
'bout  two  inches,  we  dubbed  him  *  Dusty,'  'cause 
the  seat  of  his  pants  is  so  near  the  ground  that 
they're  always  covered  with  dust;  then,  when 
he  tumbled  for  one  of  the  calicks  in  High,  we 
nicked  him  i  Spooney  ';  and  when  he  got  to 
handing  out  that  limerick  stuff,  we  gave  him 
'  Kicks,'  but  somehow,  we  always  get  back  to 


30  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Jimmy.  I  reckon  it  just  naturally  fits  in  better 
with  Todd." 

Hardy  was  already  shaking  Jimmy's  right 
hand  while  the  lad  used  his  left  to  ball  a  fist  at 
the  barking  Cat. 

"  That'll  do  for  today,  Miller,"  said  Hardy, 
as  he  released  Jimmy's  hand.  "  Don't  use  up 
all  your  words.  May  need  a  few  when  you  grow 
up  and  get  in  the  lawyer  game.  Jimmy  and 
Legs,  then,  are  these  fellows'  names  to  me  and 
I'm  plain  Hardy.  See!  Don't  want  anyone  to 
be  mistering  anybody.  Not  even  the  cook  does 
it  at  Seagulls'  Nest.  Now,  let's  beat  it." 

He  directed  his  guests  toward  the  resting  place 
of  his  famous  flyer  Windjammer,  on  a  level,  firm 
plot  of  ground  well  back  from  the  lighthouses 
and  the  sand  hills. 

"  Gee,  boys,  you  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to 
have  you,"  he  said  as  they  trotted  along. 
"  Nothin'  like  fif teeners  for  pep,  and  we'll  all 
pep  together.  I've  got  a  sort  of  holiday  at 
present.  Turner's  busy  on  some  maps  and 
photos,  so  our  operations  are  held  up  for  a 
spell.  I've  just  got  a  job  as  lighthouse  inspector 
on  the  coast,  but  don't  count  on  their  calling  on 


At  Cape  Peril  31 

me  just  yet,  or  my  calling  on  them,  rather.  By 
the  way,  which  of  you  kids  is  a  shark  on  mathe- 
matics? " 

'  *  I  pass, ' '  Cat  hastened  to  proclaim  —  an 
announcement  that  he  had  occasion  to  regret 
later.  "  I  flunked  on  tkat  Pons  Asinorum,  and 
I've  never  understood  a  thing  about  Geometry 
since.  You  flunked,  too,  Jimmy.  Old  Whiskers 
got  red  in  the  face  trying  to  rub  it  into  our 
heads,  didn't  he?  " 

Whiskers,  so  called  because  of  his  sideburns, 
was  the  lads'  teacher  in  High  School,  and  the 
pupils  had  facetiously  dubbed  the  rawboned 
nag  on  which  he  solemnly  took  his  exercise  after 
school  hours,  "  Hypotenuse." 

"I  swear  I  b'lieve  Hypo  knows  a  lot  more 
math,  than  I  do,"  conceded  Jimmy,  "  just  from 
old  Whiskers  bouncing  up  and  down  on  him." 

This  drew  a  laugh  from  all  the  boys,  in  which 
Hardy  joined  after  being  informed  of  the  nature 
and  constitution  of  Hypotenuse. 

"  Here's  your  shark,"  continued  Jimmy,  pull- 
ing Legs  forward.  * '  He 's  wading  into  Trig,  and 
eating  it  up.  All  his  sense  is  not  in  his  feet, 
though  you  might  think  so." 


32  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

11  Just  wanted  to  know,"  declared  Hardy, 
when  Legs  protested  against  Jimmy's  estimate 
of  Ms  knowledge.  "  Now  I  want  to  know,  too, 
who  goes  up  with  me  and  who's  going  to  make 
the  coast  guard  happy.  You're  the  unselfish 
kid,  Cat.  You  want  to  take  the  motor?  " 

"  Sure  I  do,"  agreed  Cat  grinning,  and  at  the 
same  time  kicking  Jimmy's  shins  when  that 
young  man  seemed  on  the  point  of  opening  his 
mouth  to  contradict  him.  "  I  don't  need  any 
air-rides  to-day.  I'm  fresh  from  one." 

And  he  proceeded  to  repeat  what  he  had  told 
his  friends  on  the  electric  train. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  you  ain't  your 
father's  own  son,"  was  Hardy's  comment  when 
the  boy  had  finished  his  story.  "  We'll  have 
to  give  you  a  brass  medal  to  chime  in  with  your 
actions.  Have  to  get  up  early  in  the  morning 
to  beat  you  to  it,  boy." 

At  the  compliment,  Cat's  chest  swelled  pom- 
pously and  his  eyes  danced  gleefully. 

"  Now,  you  two,"  observed  Hardy  a  little 
later,  addressing  Legs  and  Jimmy.  "You  two 
who  are  going  up  will  have  to  sit  in  one  another's 
laps.  I  mean,"  he  laughed,  "  one  will  have  to 


At  Cape  Peril  33 

sit  in  the  other's  lap — that's  the  only  way  to 
stow  you  in.  I  think,  judging  by  appearances, 
Jimmy  better  be  the  top  layer.'* 

"  I  never  thought  of  that  beanpole  having  a 
lap,"  declared  Jimmy.  "  Get  me  a  microscope, 
Cat" 

Hardy  put  an  end  to  the  disturbance  that 
threatened,  and  continued,  "  Now,  see  here,  you 
two  fellows  who  haven't  been  initiated,  like 
your  friend  Cat,  may  feel  a  little  wriggly  for  a 
minute  or  two,  but  you'll  soon  get  over  it.  Keep 
this  in  mind:  Flying  is  regular  life  insurance 
compared  to  dodging  autos  in  any  big  city,  and 
remember  it's  how  a  fellow  shows  up  in  a  new 
experience  that  proves  what  sort  of  stuff  he's 
got  in  him.  Listen  to  what  Service  says.  You 
know  Service,  the  war  poet? 

*  When  your  legs  seem  made  o'  jelly 

And  you're  squeamish  in  your  belly, 

And  you  want  to  turn  about  and  do  a  bunk, 

For  Tom's  sake,  kid,  don't  show  it, — 

Don't  let  your  mateys  know  it, 

You're  just  sufferin'  from  funk,  funk,  funk.' 

Get  that!    I  put  the  Tom  in  to  suit  this  present 


34  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

occasion  and  audience.  Grab  hold  o'  that  sen- 
timent and  swallow  it.  Hear?  " 

"  Didn't  need  that  to  give  me  backbone," 
affirmed  Jimmy. 

"  Beckon  I  can  go  anywhere  Jimmy  can," 
was  Legs's  conclusion  in  a  feebler  tone. 

When  the  group  reached  the  famous  Wind- 
jammer the  lads  raised  a  wild  whoop  and  set  to 
examining  her  in  every  detail  while  her  owner 
held  forth  on  her  various  excellencies. 

"  Now,"  said  he  as  he  finished  his  lecture, 
"  time  to  be  off.  Here,  put  those  on,"  he 
directed  his  passengers,  fishing  out  goggles  and 
headgear.  "  You,  Cat,  will  meet  the  coast  guard 
in  front  of  the  lighthouse  about  fifteen  minutes 
from  now.  Don't  let  the  motorcycle  jar  all  the 
pep  out  of  you.  Want  some  left  for  the  jam- 
boree to-night,  hear?  " 

"Oh,  gee  I"  exclaimed  Cat.  "What's 
doing?  " 

"  Oh,  just  a  little  roughhouse,  with  extra 
choice  eats  stored  in  my  bird's  gizzard  there. 
Smell  a  rat,  do  you,  Cat?  "  added  Hardy,  giv- 
ing the  boy  a  swift  kick  as  he  attempted  to  peep 
into  the  cockpit.  "  Take  your  nose  out  of  there. 


At  Cape  Peril  35 

Off  with  you.  And  now,  Legs,  old  boy,  your 
time's  come.  Get  in  the  electric  chair  and  be 
strapped.  Don't  look  so  green  about  the  gills. 
You'll  live  to  tell  the  tale.  Remember  Service. 
Crawl  in!  " 

Legs  cast  his  eyes  into  the  well,  and,  appar- 
ently satisfied  that  it  had  a  solid  bottom, 
straddled  in  and  took  his  seat. 

"  Keep  your  fingers  crossed,"  laughed  Hardy. 
"  Knock  on  wood,  and  keep  your  eyes  open  for 
black  cats,  and  nothing  will  happen  to  you.  Come 
along,  Jimmy." 

He  grabbed  him  by  the  seat  of  his  breeches  and 
speeded  him  in,  while  Cat  was  directed  to  help 
with  the  straps,  a  duty  undertaken  with  such 
enthusiasm  as  to  draw  various  gasps  and 
punches  from  his  victims. 

Hardy  meanwhile  gave  Windjammer's  motor 
a  final  inspection,  singing  softly  to  himself, 

"111  make  you  rumble, 

Across  the  sky, 
And  if  I  don't  tumble, 

111  live  till  I  die." 

Then,  assured  that  his  passengers  were  safely 
stowed  and  leathered,  he  fixed  himself  in  the 


36  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

pilot's  seat  and  directed  Cat  and  another 
bystander  to  start  his  propeller  and  give  his 
bird  a  shove.  In  a  few  moments,  the  crew  had 
left  the  cheering  Cat  below  and  were  soaring 
np  the  heavens. 

Every  drop  of  blood  in  their  bodies  seemed 
to  be  tingling  to  the  tips  of  their  ears  when  the 
taxying  came  to  an  end  and  the  new  flyers  felt 
the  machine  rising.  Legs  wrapped  his  arms 
around  Jimmy 's  chest  in  the  convulsive  hug 
of  a  drowning  man,  while  the  latter  clutched 
the  edge  of  the  well,  an  interminable 
"  Gee-e-e-e!  "  flowing  from  his  lips. 

"  Say,  Legs,  the  ground's  sinking!  "  he  fal- 
tered out  after  some  moments. 

There  was  a  tense  silence  on  the  part  of  the 
boy  beneath  him. 

"  I  b'lieve  you're  scared,"  persisted  Jimmy 
with  a  quiver  in  his  tone.  "  Great  Caesar's 
ghost  I  Stop  squeezing  the  life  out  of  me." 

Continued  silence  on  the  part  of  the  under  lad. 

"  Dizzy  I  "  persisted  the  tormentor. 

11  Naw!  "  finally  returned  Legs,  with  affected 
composure. 

"  Me  neither.    Duck  your  head,  Legs.    Going 


At  Cape  Peril  37 

to  butt  into  the  moon  in  a  minute.  Want  me  to 
cut  off  a  piece  of  green  cheese  for  you?  " 

"  Quit  talking  and  let  me  look,"  countered  the 
unhappy  Legs. 

"  Doesn't  that  motor  jar!  Just  like  one  of 
those  vibrators  you  put  to  the  back  of  your 
neck."  Jimmy  babbled  on,  principally  to  keep 
up  his  own  nerve.  " Ain't  this  a  grand  and 
glorious  feeling!  Say,  Legs,  don't  the  ocean 
look  funny  through  these  goggles!  " 

"I'm  looking!  "  quavered  Legs. 

Another  silence  as  the  bird  rose  to  the  desired 
altitude  and  the  pilot,  by  a  swift  shift  of  his 
levers,  sent  her  shooting  on  a  bee  line. 

"All  0.  K.?  "  he  shouted.  "  Not  scared,  are 
you?  Sit  tight,  boys,  and  don't  rock  the  boat." 

*  *  We  're  all  right, ' '  called  back  Jimmy  as 
spokesman  for  both,  and  then  to  Legs,  as  he 
became  composed  enough  to  remark  some  physi- 
cal discomfort.  "Golly,  Legs,  I  swear  I  b'lieve 
you  sharpened  up  your  knees  before  we  got  in; 
they're  jabbing  right  into  my  meat  like  a  couple 
of  knife  blades.  And  stop  blowing  a  gale  on  the 
back  of  my  neck.  You're  scared.  I  can  feel  the 
way  you're  panting." 


38  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"I'm  not,  either.  I'm  having  a  swell  time. 
Let  me  look,  will  you!  " 

The  fact  is,  as  the  flyer  sped  on  her  way 
without  accident,  the  lads  began  to  forget  any 
sense  of  uneasiness  and  to  give  their  minds 
wholly  to  the  marvelous  panorama  of  sea  and 
sand  below  and  boundless  sky  above. 

"  Say,  Legs,"  jested  Jimmy,  "I  can  see  the 
rock  of  Gibraltar  plain  as  day." 

"  Your  eyes  are  rum,"  countered  Legs.  "  I 
can  spy  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt. ' ' 

"  High  spy!  "  shot  back  Jimmy. 

"Oh,  slush!" 

"  Say,  Legs,  wouldn't  our  mothers  be  all  up  in 
the  air  if  they  knew  we  were  up  here  now.  Gee 
whillikins!  Look  at  that  toy  steamship  way 
down  yonder.  Looks  to  me  like  a  terrapin 
crawling  along  smoking  a  cigarette.  What  does 
it  look  like  to  you." 

"  Like  a  steamer." 

"  Ah,  come  off,  you  haven't  got  any  more 
imagination  than  a  sand-fiddler." 

"I'm  mighty  thankful  I  haven't.  You  need 
to  put  a  mustard  plaster  on  yours.  When  I  see 
a  rattlesnake,  I  don't  want  to  take  it  for  a 


At  Cape  Peril  39 

humming  bird.  Now  dry  up  and  let  me  look 
and  enjoy  myself.  You  are  worse  than  the  simp 
that  talks  all  through  the  movies  and  won't  let 
you  get  your  mind  on  'em.  I'm  not  going  to 
answer  another  blamed  thing." 

In  awed  silence,  the  two  lads,  now  forgetting 
themselves  in  the  wonder  of  the  experience, 
stared  over  at  the  great  expanse  of  blue  sea  on 
their  left — a  sea  of  glass  it  appeared,  with  tiny 
spots  that  were  vessels.  On  the  horizon,  the 
cloudless  sky  merged  almost  imperceptibly  into 
the  waters  below. 

To  the  right,  the  sand  hills  were  fringed  by 
splotches  of  dwarfed  forests,  and  beyond  these 
lay  a  variegated  pattern  of  level  inland,  with  its 
marshy  inlets  and  gleaming  ponds. 

For  a  half  hour  the  bird  sped  onward,  and 
then  suddenly  the  pilot  cried,  " Nearly  there! 
See,  there's  Cape  Peril  and  the  lighthouse 
ahead!  " 

The  lads,  thrilled  to  the  soul,  strained  their 
eyes  through  the  goggles.  They  saw  a  great 
bulge  of  seashore  rather  than  a  cape  and  near 
the  middle  of  this  arc,  a  toylike  lighthouse.  It 
seemed  but  a  moment  more  before  the  machine 


40  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

began  circling  and  the  shore  apparently  flew  up 
to  meet  them. 

The  bird  made  an  egg-shell  landing  on  the 
firm  level  ground  covered  with  a  layer  of  wind- 
blown sand,  well  back  from  the  seashore  and  the 
dunes. 

Hardy  vaulted  out  and  inspected  his  pas- 
sengers. 

"  Well,  boys,  still  alive  and  kicking!  'Fraid 
I'd  find  two  corpses  lashed  to  the  mast  like  the 
skipper  in  the  Wreck  of  the  Hesperus." 

The  lads  were  more  like  two  spirited  colts 
straining  on  their  leashes.  Any  pallor  that 
might  have  blanched  their  faces  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  ascent  had  given  place  to  a  vivid 
flush  from  the  stinging  wind  and  the  excitement. 
Their  eyes  sparkled  with  the  zest  of  a  new  and 
thrilling  experience.  Every  exclamation  and 
superlative  in  their  vocabulary  tumbled  out  in 
their  effort  to  express  their  feelings. 

"Say,  how  about  letting  us  loose?"  finally 
asked  Jimmy.  "I'm  tired  of  being  hitched  up 
to  this  flamingo." 

"  Don't  want  to  stay  like  the  Siamese  twins 
they  used  to  exhibit  in  the  side  show,  eh?  " 


At  Cape  Peril  41 

laughed  Hardy  as  he  helped  them  nnbuckle  the 
leathers. 

"  Not  with  this  thing.  I'd  look  like  a  wart  on 
a  fishing  pole." 

"  Sure  don't  want  any  warts  like  you  on  me," 
growled  Legs,  climbing  out  after  his  short-legged 
companion. 

"  Haven't  got  any  flesh  wounds  from  Jimmy's 
elbows,  have  you?  "  jested  Hardy. 

1 1  Flesh  wounds !  ' '  sneered  Jimmy.  '  *  He 
hasn  't  meat  enough  to  make  a  flesh  wound !  ' ' 

Hardy  nipped  off  any  disturbance  that  might 
have  followed  by  directing  the  pair  to  help  him 
shove  his  plane  into  a  roughly  constructed 
hangar  some  fifty  yards  away.  This  duty  per- 
formed, the  newcomers  had  a  chance  to  take  a 
closer  look  at  the  scene  around  them. 

The  horizon,  in  the  background,  was  fringed 
with  stunted  pine  woods  rising  beyond  a  broad 
sterile,  sandy  plain.  In  the  foreground,  the 
gleaming  blue  of  the  ocean  showed  here  and 
there  between  sand  hills  sparsely  grown  with 
long,  waving  yellow  sand  grass.  Back  of  the* 
hangar  and  extending  for  about  a  mile  parallel 
with  the  beach,  was  a  sort  of  lagoon,  perhaps  a 


42  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

quarter  of  a  mile  in  width  at  its  broadest  point. 
From  the  surface  of  the  lake  at  its*  nearer  end 
rose  a  strange  looking  wooden  structure  that 
Hardy  explained  to  be  the  hangar  of  the  sea- 
plane. A  short  distance  from  the  farther  end 
of  this  unruffled  body  of  water  stood,  on  what 
seemed  a  vast  mound  in  comparison  with  the 
sandy  stretches  about  it,  the  gaunt  and  grim 
lighthouse  of  Cape  Peril. 

"  And  here's  Seagulls'  Nest,"  announced  the 
host,  as  he  led  his  guests  seaward  and  pointed 
to  a  spacious  cottage,  half  weatherboarded  and 
half  shingled,  rising  from  an  elevated  plot  some 
two  hundred  yards  in  front  of  them. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    JAMBOREE 

Seagulls'  Nest  was  the  property  of  a  group  of 
city  business  men  who  used  it  as  headquarters 
for  the  fall  duck  hunting  and  fishing  season. 
Hence,  it  was  readily  leased  by  Hardy  for  the 
summer.  Leaving  out  the  kitchen  ell,  the  lower 
floor  formed  dining-room,  lounge,  and  library 
in  one.  Above  stairs,  one  room  was  appropriated 
by  Turner  for  developing  his  pictures  and  for 
his  drawing  work;  another  was  Hardy's  work- 
shop; the  other  three  were  available  for  sleep- 
ing quarters. 

The  whole  establishment  was  furnished  in 
the  most  rough-and-ready  camping  style.  A  long 
table  of  unfinished  wood,  nine  or  ten  substantial 
chairs,  a  desk,  a  hanging  set  of  bookshelves,  and 
an  improvised  cupboard  constituted  the  fittings 
of  the  living  room.  Its  walls  were  adorned  with 
horse,  dog,  and  fish  pictures  along  with  a  varied 
assortment  of  trophies  of  the  chase.  In  the 
bedrooms  above,  were  cots  and  little  more.  All 

43 


44  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

bathing  facilities  were  abundantly  supplied  by 
the  ocean. 

"  Hello,  Mother  Hubbard!  "  called  out  Hardy 
as  the  trio  mounted  the  steps  to  the  porch 
extending  the  length  of  the  building's  front. 
"  Boys,  there's  my  mascot,  the  only  lady  on 
deck,  and  I'd  take  my  oath  she's  a  witch." 

He  pointed  to  a  one-eyed  coal-black  cat  sitting 
near  the  door  and  blinking  her  remaining  optic 
in  a  way  that  showed  but  languid  interest  in  the 
visitors. 

"And  now,  fellows,"  he  added,  as  they  entered 
the  door,  "  here's  our  joint  abode,  so  to  speak. 
Make  yourselves  'to  hum,'  as  they  say  down 
East.  You  can  bounce  on  the  French  furniture, 
shine  up  your  knives  on  the  damask  tablecloth; 
prop  your  feet  on  the  Italian  mantelpiece,  and 
do  anything  except  monkey  with  Turner's  junk 
upstairs.  If  you  do  that,  you  might  as  well  get 
measured  by  the  undertaker." 

In  a  moment,  Luke,  the  cook,  a  powerful,  good- 
natured  looking  mulatto,  came  in  to  greet  the 
newcomers.  He  was  plainly  delighted  at  the 
arrival  of  company  to  liven  up  the  loneliness. 
After  his  enthusiastic  welcome,  he  was  directed 


At  Cape  Peril  45 

by  Hardy  to  fetch  the  eatables  from  the  air- 
plane and  prepare  his  very  best  dinner  with  all 
possible  speed. 

Then  appeared  Turner,  a  tall,  sandy-haired 
fellow  of  about  twenty-five  years,  with  a  gaunt, 
solemn-looking  face;  "  slow  but  sure"  written 
in  every  line  of  his  features. 

"  Hello,  Turner!  "  cried  out  Hardy.  "  Here 
are  two  of  our  Seaboard  Airline  patrol,  Legs 
Hatton  and  Jimmy  Todd.  Our  old  friend  Miller 
will  blow  in  on  the  motorcycle  about  two  hours 
from  now.  Fellows,  this  is  Sockless  Turner,  a 
Tarheel  from 

'  Way  down  on  the  Pasquotank 

Where  the  bullfrogs  jump  from  bank  to  bank.'  " 

"And  proud  of  it,"  asserted  Turner  as  he  gave 
the  boys  his  most  cordial  pumphandle  shake. 

"  Now,  Turner,  while  we  are  waiting  for  Cat 
and  dinner,  take  the  fellows  up  and  show  'em 
your  movie  apparatus  and  make  'em  forget  their 
stomachs.  Cat's  heard  all  that  dope  already." 

Up  the  stairs  went  the  three,  the  boys  taking, 
en  route,  an  inquisitive  glance  into  their  new 
dormitory.  They  followed  the  deliberate  Turner 


46  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

into  his  workshop,  littered  with  charts,  maps, 
drawing  material,  aerial  photo  equipment,  and 
many  curious-looking  objects,  which  the  instruc- 
tor began  to  explain  in  his  drawling  tone,  warm- 
ing up  more  and  more  as  he  proceeded  with  his 
subject. 

Having  been  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of 
aerial  photography,  the  lads  were  next  enlight- 
ened concerning  the  magic  of  the  movies  —  how 
to  make  an  auto  run  backwards,  how  to  create 
ghosts,  how  to  make  the  same  person  appear  in 
different  costumes  on  the  same  film,  how  a  man 
is  made  to  seem  to  jump  up  a  wall  of  twenty 
feet,  how  the  dummy  is  substituted  for  the  flesh- 
and-blood  person  in  movie  accidents  such  as 
falls  from  a  fifteenth  story,  how  scenery  is 
worked  in  to  give  all  the  illusion  of  nature,  and 
Jnany  other  curious  and  entertaining  facts,  the 
recital  of  which  held  the  two  lads  open  mouthed 
\nd  spellbound. 

"  Gosh!  this  fellow  knows  everything,"  was 
the  thought  both  began  to  entertain. 

And  to  confirm  their  opinion  of  his  boundless 
knowledge,  he  wound  up  with  a  lesson  in  topog- 
raphy which  entertained  Legs  immensely,  but 


At  Cape  Peril  47 

threw  Jimmy  into  an  embarrassed  state  of  per- 
plexity, till  he  was  glad  to  be  relieved  by  a  wild 
whoop  from  the  seashore  announcing  the  arrival 
of  Cat. 

As  the  other  two  scouts  bounded  down  the 
stairs,  followed  by  Turner  and  joined  by  Hardy, 
the  newcomer  burst  into  the  premises  sounding 
like  a  whole  menagerie  of  wild  animals.  The 
place  was  not  new  to  him,  so  he  took  no  time  in 
inspection. 

"  Great  Gee!  I'm  sore,"  he  exclaimed,  rub- 
bing his  person  vigorously  and  giving  a  twist  to 
his  spacious  mouth.  "  I  sure  ought  to  get  a  scout 
badge  for — what  do  you  call  it — stick-to-it-ive- 
ness,  darn  if  I  oughtn't.  That  ride  shook  the 
wits  out  of  me.  Never  again!"  he  added,  holding 
up  his  hand  with  mock  solemnity,  and  then 
changing  his  key,  "  Well,  I  swear,  if  here  ain't 
Legs  and  Jimmy  alive  and  kicking.  How  was 
it,  fellows?  " 

And  on  the  instant  he  insisted  on  having  every 
detail  of  the  air  trip,  interspersed  with  numerous 
comic  and  sarcastic  comments  by  himself. 

"  Well,  old  scouts,"  he  finally  conceded,  "  I'll 
shake  hands  with  the  Seaboard  Airline  patrol. 


48  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

We  have  all  three  been  up,  which  is  an  extra 
cinch  on  the  aviation  badge;  weVe  all  made 
models;  we've  got  a  good  line  on  famous  avia- 
tors and  airships;  and,  as  soon  as  Hardy  gives 
us  a  little  more  dope  on  motors  and  ornithopters 
and  those  other  opters,  we'll  be  able  to  give 
points  to  the  man  who  makes  'em,  we  will.  And 
1  can  see  that  new  badge  right  'longside  the 
other  flock  on  my  sleeve  this  minute." 

Cat   surveyed  his   comrades   smilingly. 

Hardy  and  Turner  watched  the  lads'  enthu- 
siasm with  happy  smiles  until  what  Hardy  called 
the  dinner  "de  Luke's  "  was  announced.  They 
all  fell  to  with  voracious  appetites,  even  Cat 
finding  himself  able  to  sit  down  to  it,  despite  his 
repeated  conflicts  with  the  motorcycle. 

After  the  meal,  a  dip  in  the  surf  was  voted 
by  the  boys  as  next  in  order,  but  the  cautious 
Hardy  directed  that,  although  they  might  get 
into  their  trunks  forthwith,  on  no  condition  were 
they  to  enter  the  water  until  their  dinner  was 
well  on  its  way  to  digestion,  and,  besides,  they 
were  not  to  go  in  until  he  got  there  to  superin- 
tend the  job.  These  directions  being  acceded  to, 
the  lads  shuffled  off  their  scout  outfits,  slipped  on 


At  Cape  Peril  49 

their  trunks,  and  made  for  the  beach  to  kill  the 
required  interval. 

11  Look  here,  fellows,  let's  have  a  little  field 
day  while  we're  waiting  to  go  in,"  suggested 
Cat.  "  Give  us  a  back,  Legs.  Come  on,  Jimmy, 
frog  it  over  the  skyscraper." 

Legs,  with  apparent  docility,  bent  his  back 
to  accommodate  the  agile  Jimmy;  but  when  Cat 
attempted  to  keep  the  pot  boiling,  the  bent  back 
humped  itself  abruptly  and  shot  the  prospective 
leaper  into  a  heap  on  the  sand.  The  discom- 
forted Cat  bounded  up,  harnessed  his  finger  into 
Legs's  trunks  and  threatened  to  tear  off  that 
flimsy  garment  while  he  mauled  the  offender's 
head,  until  Jimmy  interfered  and  diverted  their 
minds  to  a  broad  jump. 

He  lined  off  taw  on  the  moist  sand,  leaped  a 
scant  six  feet  as  estimated  by  Cat's  eye;  then 
the  measurer  followed  and  heeled  in  at  six  and 
a  half. 

"  Now,  kangarooster,  your  turn,"  said  Cat  to 
Legs;  "  take  your  fling.  You've  got  it  sewed  up 
already." 

Legs  bounded  at  least  nine  feet,  landing  on 
the  seat  of  his  trunks. 


50  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  WooloomoolooT  " 
asked  the  grinning  Cat. 

"  Who?  "  demanded  Jimmy. 

"  Didn't  hear  about  him?  He's  the  new  im- 
migrant kangaroo  who  came  in  with  a  Noah's 
Ark  load  of  four  thousand  animals  for  the  New 
York  Zoo.  He  can  hop  fifty-two  feet  —  pretty 
near  as  good  as  a  trained  flea.  Legs  is  his 
first  cousin. " 

"  Tell  you  how  to  fix  Legs,"  suggested  Jimmy. 
"  Load  him  up  to  the  nozzle  with  buckshot,  and 
then  we  could  make  him  trail  us  the  way  the 
guy  did  in  the  Jumping  Frog  Mark  Twain 
wrote  about.  Gee  whizz!  Never  heard  of  that? 
You've  got  something  to  live  for!  When  I  read 
that  tale,  I  came  near  splitting  my  four  sides 
and  rolling  right  off  the  chair.  Here's  the  way  if 
goes:  The  yap  in  the  story  had  the  jumpingest 
frog  anywhere  in  the  whole  country,  and  he 
cleaned  up  a  barrel  of  money  betting  on  him 
till  a  funny  geezer  came  along  and  allowed  he 
could  lick  the  prize  croaker  with  any  old  frog 
the  yap  picked  up  for  him.  So,  while  the  owner 
was  off  hunting  another  frog  in  the  swamp,  the 
slick  guy  grabbed  up  the  performing  frog  and 


At  Cape  Peril  51 

loaded  him  to  the  gills  with  buckshot.  Well, 
'fore  long,  here  comes  the  fellow  with  the  new 
frog,  and  when  the  stranger  takes  it  and  sets  it 
side  by  side  with  the  yap's  and  they  give  'em 
both  a  shove,  blamed  if  the  new  frog  didn't 
jump  about  ten  feet  and  the  old  prize  one 
couldn't  do  a  darned  thing  but  just  flop  up  and 
down  like  a  limp  jumping-jack. " 

"  That's  pretty  rich,"  approved  Cat,  with  a 
moderate  grin.  "  Though  it  doesn't  make  me 
split  my  sides,  but  I  guess  that's  because  you're 
telling  it." 

Legs,  standing  off  at  some  distance  on  the 
spot  where  he  had  landed,  showed  no  signs  of 
amusement. 

"  Laugh  at  the  man's  joke,  Legs,"  exhorted 
Cat. 

The  rest  of  the  wait  was  spent  in  a  game  of 
kitten  ball,  the  details  of  which  abbreviated 
form  of  baseball  Cat  had  recently  acquired,  and 
much  sport  resulted  from  an  effort  to  make  three 
individuals  do  the  work  for  a  whole  team. 

Hardy  finally  appeared  attired  for  his  plunge 
and  suggested  going  down  to  the  culvert,  for 
diving.  This  construction  admitted  the  salt 


52  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

water  of  the  ocean  to  Lake  Herring  to  prevent 
the  latter  from  becoming  pestilential  or  furnish- 
ing a  breeding  place  for  mosquitoes.  The  ocean 
mouth  of  this  spillway  was  formed  of  piles 
driven  deep  into  the  sea-bed  and  projecting  some 
distance  from  the  shore  line.  From  the  end  of 
it,  excellent  diving  into  sufficiently  deep  water 
was  offered. 

With  a  whoop  that  started  the  echoes  in  the 
woods  beyond  the  sandhills,  the  boys  made  a 
wild  rush  for  the  diving  place.  Fast  and  furi- 
ous was  the  fun  of  the  swimmers  as  they  plunged 
one  after  the  other  into  the  briny  waters,  speed- 
ing up  the  ladder  and  repeating  the  performance 
to  "keep  the  pot  boiling.*'  Once  Cat  followed 
too  close  on  the  gawky  Legs,  tripped  him,  and 
sent  him  sprawling  into  the  water. 

"Gee!  that  was  a  buster!"  he  shouted. 
"  Don't  be  too  rough  on  the  poor  ocean,  Legs. 
You  might  bruise  it.  You  must  have  taken 
swimming  lessons  in  the  correspondence  school 
and  lost  most  of  'em  in  the  mail,"  yelled  the 
persecutor  as  his  victim  came  up  sputtering  and 
vowing  direst  vengeance.  As  Cat  plunged  in,  a 
stingaree  wrapped  itself  about  his  ankles  and 


At  Cape  Peril  53 

sent  him  yelping  back  up  the  ladder  and  Legs 
was  more  than  avenged. 

Hardy  kept  a  close  eye  on  the  swimmers,  tak- 
ing an  occasional  header  himself,  until  they  all 
had  their  fill  of  fun  and  salt  water  and  wended 
their  way  back  to  Seagulls'  Nest. 

Seven  o'clock,  the  time  set  for  Hardy's  prom- 
ised jamboree,  finally  arrived.  A  royal  feast 
was  the  preliminary — spots  and  hogfish,  ham 
and  celery,  vegetables  to  match,  and  the  most 
savory  plum  pudding  that  a  boy  ever  ate.  Even 
after  all  this,  the  chinks  had  to  be  filled  up  with 
nuts  and  candy. 

Stuffed  but  happy,  the  party  started  the  rough- 
house.  There  was  a  jew's-harp  performance  by 
Turner,  and  a  guitar  offering  by  Hardy,  with  a 
breakdown  chorus.  Then,  as  soon  as  digestion 
permitted,  Legs  and  Jimmy  staged  a  boxing  bout 
that  threw  the  spectators  into  a  roar.  A  mock 
jujutsu  exhibition  by  Cat,  with  Legs  as  the 
victim,  was  next  on  the  program,  which  ended 
with  a  minstrel  show  in  which  the  whole  estab- 
lishment participated.  Of  this  last,  Luke  was 
easily  the  star. 

Finally,  as  the  evening  wore  on  to  the  end, 


54  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Hardy  moved  that  the  show  be  concluded  by 
drinking  the  health  of  Windjammer,  more  not- 
able in  its  flights  than  any  roc  in  the  Arabian 
Nights,  and  by  all  singing  a  composition  of  his 
own,  carbon  copies  of  which  were  distributed. 

"  Which  ale  shall  we  drink  it  in,"  shouted 
Hardy,  "Adam's  or  ginger!  " 

"  Ginger!  "  roared  the  lads  with  one  accord. 

The  suggestion  being  thus  noisily  approved, 
the  ginger-ale  was  produced  and  drained  off 
with  great  gusto.  Then  Hardy,  after  a  few  intro- 
ductory chords  on  his  guitar,  started  to  bellow 
out  his  verse  to  a  rollicking  tune,  while  he  flour- 
ished one  hand  in  the  most  approved  orchestra- 
leader  fashion : 

"A  jolly  rover  of  the  air, 
A  seasoned  bird  am  I. 
There's  not  a  venture  I'd  not  dare, 
When  sweeping  through  the  sky. 
I  feel  my  blood 
Surge  to  the  flood, 
As  I  mount  up  the  sky. 

"  Now,  boys,"  he  paused  to  exhort,  "all  join 
in  and  put  plenty  of  punch  in  your  singing.  Now : 


At  Cape  Peril  55 

"Up,  up  she  wings;  the  motor  sings; 

I  guide  her  at  my  pleasure. 
High  o'er  the  world  Windjammer  swings 
To  paths  no  soul  can  measure. 
The  sphere  below 
Shrinks  as  we  go 
To  heights  no  gauge  can  measure. 

"  Next  spasm,"  shouted  the  leader.  "  Eip  it 
out! 

' '  I  maul  the  moon  around  the  rink ; 

The  stars  I  bowl  and  batter; 
I  put  the  sunball  on  the  blink ; 
The  sheeplike  clouds  I  scatter. 
It's  bully  fun 
To  see  them  run — 
The  curling  clouds  I  shatter. 

"  I  crumple  up  the  hurricanes; 

I  flip  the  ticklish  breezes ; 
I  smash  the  hail  to  window-panes, 
And  roll  the  snow  in  cheeses. 
I  churn  the  air 
Until  the  Bear 
High  in  the  heavens  sneezes. 

"  Either  Bear  you  choose,  boys.  Ursa  Major 
or  Ursa  Minor.  We'll  go  out  and  take  a  look  at 
them  presently.  Now,  all  together!  " 


56  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Down  came  every  fist  on  the  table  till  the 
glasses  bounced  and  rattled  an  necompaniment 
to  the  last  stanza: 

' '  Whir- whir- whir- whir- whir- whir ; 
Throb,  throb,  throbby,  throbbity ; 
And  purr,  purr,  purr-purr,  purr,  purr; 
Bob,  bob,  bobby,  bobbity; 
Buzz,  buzz,  buzz; 
Suzz,  suzz,  BUZZ  ; 
Chob,  chob,  chobby,  chobbity. 

Wow!  " 

This  rigmarole  was  rendered  time  and  again, 
each  time  with  more  tremendous  clatter  than  the 
time  before.  But  even  boy  energy  ebbs  at  last, 
and  the  tumult  began  to  die  away. 

*  It's  all  slightly  exaggerated,"  said  Hardy, 
"  as  Mark  Twain  declared  when  told  of  a  report 
of  his  own  death,  but  it  expresses  my  feelings, 
and,  I  believe,  the  feelings  of  every  flyer  that 
ever  trimmed  a  bird." 

"  You  bet  it  does,"  agreed  the  chorus. 

Then  the  conviviality  moderated  into  a  short 
discussion  of  the  joys  of  flying. 

During  all  this  jollity  several  hours  had  hur- 
ried by,  and  when  the  cuckoo  clock  announced 


At  Cape  Peril  57 

eleven,  and  Hardy  expressed  the  conviction  that 
it  was  time  for  hard-working  lads  to  be  abed,  it 
was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  they  man- 
aged to  make  a  start.  Finally,  they  got  to  the 
point  of  making  a  rush  for  their  sleeping  quar- 
ters, but,  even  then,  the  easy  process  of  undress- 
ing was  interrupted  by  frequent  tussles  and 
pillow  fights  before  reaching  the  pa  jama  stage. 

"  I  am  growing  old,  Mother,"  remarked  Cat 
whimsically,  donning  the  above-mentioned  gar- 
ment; "my  pink  pajamas  are  turning  white. 
Tough  the  grudge  all  these  laundries  have  against 
sporting  colors." 

Jimmy,  meanwhile,  was  carefully  slicking  back 
his  hair  before  retiring — a  habit  that  he  always 
indulged  in,  with  the  explanation  that  he  didn't 
know  whom  he  might  meet  in  his  sleep. 

"  Hully gully,  ain't  he  cutie!"  jeered  Cat. 

A  few  moments  later,  all  three  were  stretched 
out  on  their  cots,  and,  after  a  little  more  jab- 
bering, silence  fell. 

"  What  are  the  wild  waves  saying,  Legs?" 
abruptly  broke  forth  Jimmy,  who  had  been 
listening  to  the  gentle  wash  of  the  surf  on  the 
shore. 


58  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"Saying,  close  your  face  and  let  me  sleep," 
growled  Legs,  just  feeling  his  first  delicious 
drowsiness. 

"  Got  me  that  time,  didn't  youf  "  Jimmy 
returned,  and  then  he  slowly  composed: 

1 '  There  is  a  young  fellow  named  Legs 
Who  .  .  .  trots  on  a  pair  of  slim  pegs ; 

He  can  .  .  .  wiggle  each  ear  .  .  . 

In  a  way  .  .  .  that  I  fear  .  .  . 
He's  kin  to  —  a  — a  — a—  " 

But  while  drowsily  trying  to  search  out  a 
suitable  rhyme,  he,  too,  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CAPE  PERIL'S  JOLLY  HERMIT 

When  the  boys  woke  up  the  next  morning,  or 
rather  when  they  were  tumbled  out  of  bed  about 
eight  by  Hardy  and  Turner,  who  had  already 
been  up  an  hour  and  had  developed  a  voracious 
appetite  for  the  breakfast  waiting  in  the  kitchen, 
the  sea  proved  a  bitter  disappointment.  As  the 
three  guests  bounded  to  a  front  window  to 
inspect  the  prospects,  it  was  disgustingly  placid 
without  a  sign  of  a  whitecap.  The  gentle  waves 
that  washed  the  beach  seemed  fearful  of  dis- 
placing a  single  pebble. 

"  B'lieve  that  old  ocean  is  just  trying  to  spite 
us,"  concluded  Cat.  "  'Fraid  we  won't  get  a 
good  man-sized  wave  to  ride  while  we're  down 
here." 

11  Hurry  up,"  shouted  Hardy  as  he  left  the 
room.  "  If  you  kids  don't  get  down  to  breakfast 
in  less  than  a  pig's  whisper,  I'll  be  riding  you 
good  and  heavy." 

A  savory  odor  of  frying  fish  that  penetrated 

59 


60  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

the  room  from  the  region  below  proved  even 
more  stimulating  than  Hardy's  threat,  and  after 
dashing  out  for  a  morning  dip  of  brief  duration, 
the  lads  scrambled  into  their  scout  togs  and 
a  few  moments  later  presented  three  smiling 
faces  and  ravenous  appetites  at  the  breakfast 
table. 

"  Want  to  go  over  to  Cape  Peril,  don't  you?  " 
asked  the  host  when  all  were  through. 

An  eager  "You  bet!"  was  the  unanimous 
answer. 

"  Well,  you've  got  a  regular  picnic  before 
you,"  declared  Hardy. 

"  Old  Buffum's  the  rarest  bird  you  ever 
imagined.  Been  running  the  light  over  there 
for  the  last  ten  years,  ever  since  he  left  the 
Merchant  Marine  service.  What  he  doesn't  know 
about  ships  and  sea  lore  isn't  worth  knowing. 
He's  got  the  dots  on  every  vessel  that  plies  up 
and  down  this  coast  and  knows  where  they  are 
every  minute  of  the  day  or  night.  Has  a  chart 
tacked  up  on  the  wall  and  a  lot  of  pins  with  the 
name  of  a  ship  tied  to  each  one,  and  he  shifts 
them  all  the  time  he's  got  an  eye  open,  to  indi- 
cate the  boats'  positions  at  any  specified  mo- 


At  Cape  Peril  61 

ment.  Doesn't  get  far  off  either,  unless  some- 
thing very  unforeseen  happens.  If  you  want  to 
complete  your  education  in  the  water  line,  ask 
Bill  Buffum.  And  he's  the  queerest  old  duck.  Sits 
there  all  by  himself  most  of  the  time,  reading 
sea  yarns  or  watching  the  ocean.  But  he  has 
right  much  company.  Everybody  who  comes 
this  way  stops  to  see  him,  sometimes  as  many 
as  three  visitors  a  week,  not  counting  the  man 
who  brings  his  '  vittles  '  from  the  fishing  settle- 
ment over  yonder.  So  far  as  I  know  he  does  his 
own  washing,  for  I  never  saw  him  without  that 
same  blue  shirt  that  always  looks  tolerable 
clean.  Beckon  it  must  be  an  easy  conscience. 
Now  let's  go  over  and  chat  with  him." 

There  was  a  noisy  chorus  of  assent. 

The  lads  were  ready  enough  for  the  experi- 
ence. Cape  Peril  had  a  tang  of  romance  to  its 
very  name  and  to  meet  an  ex-mariner  who  had 
scoured  the  Seven  Seas  was  a  treat  not  to  be  had 
every  day.  "  He  doesn't  mind  boys  asking  him 
questions,  does  he?  "  inquired  Legs. 

"  Tickles  him  to  death.  Only  trouble  is  to 
stop  him  when  he  gets  wound  up.  I'll  leave  you 
fellows  with  him  for  a  while,  and  when  I  come 


62  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

back  and  sit  a  little,  I'll  hop  up  and  give  the 
signal  to  go." 

Merrily  joking  and  laughing,  the  four  trudged 
along  the  sea  beach,  over  the  culvert  that  spanned 
the  depression  between  the  region  of  Seagulls' 
Nest  and  the  domain  of  Cape  Peril,  and  up  the 
mound  to  the  lighthouse.  The  lads  viewed  the 
weatherbeaten  exterior  with  intense  interest  as 
Hardy  recounted  the  services  it  rendered  to 
vessels  seeking  to  shun  the  dangerous  shoals  it 
faced. 

Then  the  four  passed  through  the  open  door 
into  a  bare  circular  basement.  Here  Hardy 
shouted  for  the  keeper. 

"  I  seen  you  ahoy,"  called  back  a  hearty 
voice.  "  Climb  the  companion  way  up  amidships. 
The  skipper  is  within." 

Up  the  ladderlike  stair  climbed  the  proces- 
sion, emerging  into  a  second  circular  room,  evi- 
dently the  living  quarters  of  the  keeper.  A  couch 
covered  with  a  rusty  crazy  quilt,  a  cupboard,  a 
great  stove,  a  table  littered  with  a  rare  collection 
of  odds  and  ends,  various  chairs  and  boxes  of 
all  sizes,  shelves  supporting  everything  imagin- 
able from  a  mousetrap  to  a  cannonball,  maps, 


At  Cape  Peril  63 

charts,  and  curios  from  every  quarter  of  the 
world  adorning  the  curving  walls  of  the  room  — 
such  were  the  furnishings  of  this  strange  abode 
of  the  veteran  of  the  sea. 

The  "  Cap'n,"  a  short,  broad  man  of  some 
sixty  years,  with  a  bushy  white  beard,  twinkling 
bright  eyes  on  either  side  of  a  mighty  nose,  came 
forward  on  his  bowed  legs  to  welcome  his 
visitors. 

"  So  these  is  them,"  said  he  as  Hardy  pre- 
sented the  boys  before  taking  his  leave.  "  Glad 
to  see  ye,  lads',"  he  added,  picking  up  the  pipe  he 
had  laid  aside  in  order  to  shake  their  hands. 
'  *  If  you  can 't  find  chairs  to  accommodate  ye,  the 
boxes  is  soft  and  springy.  Buffum's  my  name, 
and  Buffum's  my  nature.  You  don't  find  no 
style  hyuh,  but  what  I  has  you're  welcome  to  it. 
I  know  that  suits  ye,  boys.  You  look  like  you've 
got  horse  sense,  and  horse  sense  is  what  old 
Bill  Buffum  swears  by.  And  ye've  got  good 
clean  smooth  faces  I  see,  lads.  Keep  'em  smooth 
and  clean,  and  when  your  thoughts  begin  to 
write  wrinkles  on  'em,  let  'em  be  jolly,  happy 
wrinkles,  for  your  thoughts  write  on  your  face  so 
everybody  kin  read  'em.  You  can't  fool  old 


64  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Mother  Nature,  lads,  and  don't  try.^  Horse  sense 
and  happiness,  lads,  them's  the  words." 

He  seated  himself  under  six  eager  eyes,  and 
began  to  puff  vigorously  on  his  pipe. 

"  Tell  me  you  used  to  be  a  sailor,"  began 
Legs. 

Captain  Buffum  refilled  and  relighted  his  pipe, 
and  putting  on  his  most  knowing  look,  proceeded : 
"  They  told  you  right,  lad,  they  told  you  right. 
A  sailor  I  was  and,  though  my  old  body  is  tied 
down  in  this  hyuh  lighthouse,  my  mind  is  a-sail- 
ing  the  sea  right  this  minute.  I  was  born  at  sea, 
and  I  reckon  that  first  salt  spray  I  took  in  when 
I  opens  my  mouth  to  tell  'em  I'd  come  must 
'a  give  me  a  taste  I  couldn't  never  git  over. 
Then  I  growed  up  in  a  seaport  as  nigh  to  the 
water  as  where  I'm  sittin'  here.  I  growed  up 
with  the  salt  air  in  my  lungs,  lads." 

Captain  Buffum  nodded  his  head  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ocean.  "  When  I  fust  seed  the  vessels 
in  the  harbor,"  he  continued,  "  the  sea  drawed 
me,  and  she  kept  a  drawin'  me  till  I  was  eighteen 
year  old,  and  then  I  says  to  my  father,  *  I'm 
a-goin'  to  sea,'  And  he  says  to  me,  '  Bill, 
you're  a  danged  fool!  '  And  says  I,  '  I  knows 


At  Cape  Peril  65 

it,  but  a  fool  is  goin '  to  sea. '  And  I  went,  boys ;  I 
went.  The  sea  had  drawed  me,  same  as  the 
magnet  does  the  needle,  ever  sence  I  fust  seen 
it,  and,  when  you  fall  in  love  with  the  sea,  she's 
the  goldarnest  drawin'est  sweetheart  a  felluh 
can  have.  She  don't  let  go  fer  nuthin',  and 
sometimes  she  takes  such  a  almighty  likin'  to 
you  she  opens  up  them  foamy  jaws  o'  hers  and 
swallows  you  whole,  and  keeps  you  tight  till 
kingdom  come  in  her  Davy  Jones's  locker." 

"Where's  that?"  inquired  Legs  wonder- 
ingly. 

"  That's  a  name  for  the  bottom  of  the  sea," 
explained  Cap  'n  Buffum,  with  a  laugh,  and  added 
with  a  solemn  face,  "  where  many  a  good  sailor 
lies  a-moulderin'  and  many  a  good  ship,  too.  In 
the  old  days,  that  was  the  place  where  I  wanted 
to  go  when  my  time  came,  though  I  warn't  in  no 
blasted  hurry,  just  like  you  lads  ain't.  But  I 
thought  the  wust  thing  that  could  happen  to  a 
sailorman  was  to  flicker  out  on  dry  land,  and 
though  I  had  to  use  my  fists  in  more'n  one  skir- 
mish on  shore,  lads,  I  kept  my  weather  eye 
open  for  to  keep  a  whole  skin  for  Davy  Jones  rs 
locker  when  that  thar  sea-witch  took  a  notion  to 


66  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

blow  her  whistle  fer  me.  Thar  were  one  time, 
though,  lads,  when  I  had  that  eye  shet,  and  that 
was  when  I  fit  a  dooel." 

"  Gee!  have  you  fought  a  duel?  "  exclaimed 
Jimmy,  popping  his  black  eyes  in  wonder  and 
admiration,  while  the  other  two  boys  leaned 
forward  in  rapt  attention.  "  I  thought  every- 
body who  did  that  was  dead  long  ago." 

"  When  I  say  fit  a  dooel,"  pursued  Cap'n 
Buffum,  blowing,  out  a  cloud  of  smoke,  "  I  ain't 
walkin'  the  chalk  line  o'  truth.  I  was  all  primed 
to  fight  one  day  when  I  was  circumwented,  lads. 
I  was  circumwented.  This  was  the  way  of  it: 
There  was  a  sailor  on  The  Flying  Jenny  (she 
flied  on  the  ocean,  lads)  'bout  ten  years 
younger  than  me  and  the  viles',  out-cussinest, 
out-lyines'  bluejacket  that  ever  clum  a  riggin'. 
One  day  he  said  sumpin'  about  a  gal  I  wouldn't 
stand  for  fer  nuthin,'  and  I  give  it  back  to  him 
hot  and  heavy,  hot  and  heavy,  I  did.  *  Well,  all 
right,'  says  he  with  a  string  o*  oaths  that  ought 
to  'a  burned  a  hole  plumb  through  his  throat, 
'  that  means  a  round  next  time  we  has  shore 
leave.'  *  That's  me,'  says  I,  '  fists  or  pistols?  ' 
*  Pistols  is  a  gentleman's  weapon,'  says  he. 


At  Cape  Peril  67 

*  Though  I  don't  see  whar  you  got  no  such  title, 
pistols  let  it  be,'  says  I. 

"  I  hadn't  never  heard  tell  of  seconds  in 
them  days,  so,  next  shore  leave  we  has,  we 
goes  together  to  a  pawnshop  and  buys  a  gun 
apiece,  lads,  and  then  we  makes  for  a  ole  field, 
nice  and  quiet,  outside  the  town.  *  Now,'  says  he, 
'  le's  turn  back  to  back  and  step  off  fifty  paces.' 
1  I  ain't  got  no  eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head,' 
says  I.  *  And  you  don't  need  none,'  says  he, 
mild  as  a  spring  mornin'.  Then,  blister  my  boots, 
lads,  when  I  faces  round  from  east  to  west, 
that  scoundrel  he  boxed  the  compass  in  his  tracks 
and  comes  back  to  whar  he  starts  from  and  he 
ups  and  whacks  me  a  murderous  thump  on  the 
skull  with  the  butt  of  his  pistol,  and  I  falls  like 
a  log  on  the  ground,  jus'  like  a  log." 

The  Cap'n  paused  at  this  dramatic  point  to 
take  another  draw  on  his  pipe. 

The  excited  Jimmy  hastened  to  ask,  '  *  How  did 
you  know  he  hit  you  with  a  pistol  if  you  didn't 
see  him?  " 

"  How  would  you  know,  my  mate,  ef  lightning 
was  to  strike  you?  I  laid  thar  fer  two  hours 
limp  an'  pacified,  and  when  I  comes  to  and  pulls 


68  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

my  senses  together  and  feels  the  back  o'  my 
head,  thar  was  the  criss-cross  ridges  made  by 
that  'ere  pistol  butt,  and  I  knowed  right  off 
what  that  devil  had  done.  I  hed  blood  in 
my  eye,  lads,  and  ef  I'd  'a  ketched  that  scoundrel 
then,  I'm  a-f eared  thar  wouldn't  'a  been  no  pac- 
in'-off  dooel,  but  jes'  a  plain  ev'y-day  murder. 
But  I  scours  the  town,  and  nary  a  Bill  Perkins 
could  I  find,  and  I  goes  back  to  the  ship  and 
he  warn't  thar,  and  the  next  day  he  didn't  turn 
up,  ner  the  next,  ner  nary  day  till  the  ship 
sailed,  and  then  I  seed  he'd  meant  to  desert  fun 
the  fust." 

The  "  Cap'n  "  leaned  back  reflectively. 

"  Gee!  what  would  you  do  if  you  got  him 
now?  "  asked  Cat. 

"  Listen,  lads,  listen,"  continued  the  old  man, 
after  another  puff,  "  I'm  goin'  to  surprise  ye. 
You  'spect  me  to  say  I'd  reach  out  and  wring 
his  mis 'able  neck  fer  him,  don't  ye?  No,  no,  I 
wouldn't.  Fve  lamed  a  lot  since  them  times,  and 
the  hardest  lesson  I  ever  lamed  was  to  forgive 
yo'  enemies,  but  I've  learned  it.  Hatin'  don't 
do  yo'  disposition  no  good  and  it  plumb  spiles 
yo'  complexion." 


At  Cape  Peril  69 

A  light  came  into  the  old  mariner's  eyes  as  at 
the  attainment  of  a  great  triumph. 

"  I've  done  fergiven  ev'y  critter  that  done  me 
any  wrong  on  this  hyuh  globe.  When  it  come 
to  that  'ere  varmint,  I  wrastled  with  my  soul  fer 
forty  days  right  in  this  hyuh  lighthouse,  but  I 
done  it.  I  fergive  him,  an'  ef  he'd  step  up 
right  this  minute,  I  might  screw  up  this  old  mug 
o'  mine,  but,  blister  my  boots,  I'd  stick  out  my 
old  flipper  and  I'd  say,  '  You  low-down,  ornery, 
sneakin'  cuss,  I  fergive  you  that  dirty  trick  you 
played  on  me  thirty  years  ago,  and,  dang  you, 
hyuh's  my  hand  on  it.  I'd  do  that,  fer  I'm  tryin' 
to  do  my  bes'  in  this  hyuh  life.  I'm  tryin'  not 
to  think  of  no  thin '  but  what's  good.  It's  a 
lonesome  life,  but  I'm  doin'  my  bes',  lads.  I'm 
a-lettin'  my  light  shine,  and  when  I  gets  a  little 
down  in  the  mouth  of  a  night,  I  says  to  myself, 
*  Bill  Buffum,  you're  a  fool.  Think  how  happy 
you're  a-makin'  them  sailormen  out  on  the  sea 
yonder,'  and  I  cheers  up  immediate. 

"  I  might  o'  been  married,  lads,  but  when  I 
had  that  sort  o'  thing  a  workin'  in  my  head,  I 
hed  the  same  ailment  I  has  now,  lads.  I  war 
bow-legged,  and  bowlegs  is  a  powerful  drawback 


70  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air  , 

to  mat'amony.  All  the  gals  snickers  at  ye,  lads, 
and  when  a  gal  makes  fun  o'  yef  ye  might  as 
well  reef  yo'  sails  and  drift.  Ye  see,  when  I 
was  jes'  kneehigh  to  a  hoppergrass  them  clapper- 
clawed kids  in  school  said  thet  when  I  toddled 
along  my  legs  makes  a  0  and  then  they  crosses 
sorter  and  makes  a  X,  so,  dang  'em,  they  yells 
*  Ox  *  after  me ;  *  f er, '  says  they, '  yo '  legs  spell  it 
just  as  good  or  plainer  then  McGuffey's  Spellin' 
Book.'  Ef  you  want  to  be  happy,  boys,  don't  let 
none  of  yo'  limbs  take  a  hold  on  yo'  mind." 

At  this  point,  Legs  crossed  his  lower  extrem- 
ities uneasily,  much  to  the  merriment  of  his 
companions. 

11  What's  the  matter,  lad?  "  laughed  the  jolly 
seaman.  "  You  ain't  got  nothin'  to  worry  you. 
I  has  to  tack,  but  yo'  props  is  long  but  straight, 
and,  as  long  as  they're  straight,  you  kin  walk 
away  with  any  of  'em.  That's  right,  lads.  Don't 
do  like  me.  Pick  yo'  gal  an',  when  you've 
sighted  her  with  your  telescope,  bear  down  the 
wind  with  all  yo'  sails  a-bellyin'.  An',  blister 
my  boots,  she'll  strike  her  colors,  and  she's 
yourn  to  have  and  to  hold,  ferever  and  mo'n 
ever.  Amen." 


At  Cape  Peril  71 

With  great  solemnity  the  Cap'n  drew  on  his 
pipe,  and  then  gazed  roguishly  around  upon  his 
grinning  audience. 

"  But  I  did  go  a-co'tin*  once,"  he  conceded 
with  a  sly  wink.  *  *  'Twar  when  I  come  home  after 
I'd  been  at  sea  'bout  five  year.  I  run  across 
one  of  the  gals  I'd  knowed  that  knocked  me 
down  the  companion  way  the  fust  time  I  laid  a 
eye  on  her." 

There  was  a  look  of  startled  surprise  from 
the  boys. 

"  I  mean,"  Cap'n  Buffum  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  I  mean  she 
drawed  my  heart  out,  lads.  She  was  all  cream 
and  ripe  peaches.  'Twarn't  no  gal  that  weared 
her  clothes  neater,  an',  in  all  my  born  days,  I 
never  seed  finer  mitts  than  she  wore." 

"What!"  interrupted  Legs.  "  The  things 
ketchers  wear?  " 

Cap'n  Buffum  iaughed  long  and  loudly. 
"  Them  was  the  gloves  gals  wore  when  I  was 
young,  gloves  that  didn't  have  no  finger  ends  to 
'em,  so  the  womenfolks  could  show  off  their  shiny 
rings  and  grab  things  good.  In  them  days,  they 
didn't  have  to  take  'em  off  when  they  ate  their 


72  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

vittles  like  these  hyuh  slick,  slippery  ones  the 
gals  wear  nowadays." 

"  What  you  fellows  keep  ha-ha-ing  about!  " 
demanded  Legs,  glaring  on  his  two  chums,  who 
were  indulging  in  horselaughs.  "  She  might 
have  been  on  a  team.  Didn  't  you  see  that  Ladies ' 
aggregation  that  came  down  home  last  year,  with 
men  along  to  slide  bases  for  'em?  I  never  did 
see  so  many  balls  muffed  nor  as  many  fouls 
cracked  nor  —  nor  —  Shut  up,  will  you?  " 

The  last  command  was  evidently  not  intended 
for  their  host,  who  chuckled  once  more  and  con- 
tinued: "  She  was  this  sort  of  baseball  player, 
lads:  she  knocked  me  out  and  clean  over  the 
fence  when  I  set  down  to  talk  sweet  to  her.  She 
didn't  say  so,  but  I  knowed  it  war  my  legs  that 
done  it.  But  time  brings  changes,  lads;  time 
brings  almighty  changes.  She  kept  on  a-knockin' 
and  a-knockin'  other  felluhs  out  because  one's 
eyes  didn't  set  right  and  she  didn't  like  another 
lad's  job.  She  was  so  notional  and  pernickety, 
fust  thing  she  knowed  she  was  a  ole  maid 
landed  high  and  dry  in  No  Man's  Land,  she  was. 

"  I  reckon  it  war  twenty  year  since  I  done 
lost  sight  of  her  when  hyuh  come  a  letter  from 


At  Cape  Peril  73 

her  to  me,  sayin',  '  Bill  dear,  I'm  a-dyin'  and  I 
can 't  die  easy  unless  I  see  you  bef o '  I  go. '  You 
could  'a  knocked  me  down  with  a  gull's  pin- 
feather,  lads,  but  'twarn't  nothin'  to  do  but  go. 
So  I  rigs  myself  up  and  takes  the  train  and  finds 
her  house,  an'  when  I  rings,  a  solemn-lookin'  ole 
woman  opens  the  do'  and  shows  me  upstairs  as 
sadlike  as  if  I  was  goin'  to  a  buryin',  and  thar 
in  that  room  on  them  pillowshams  lay  the  bat- 
tered hull  of  that  pretty  Mary  Ann  I  had  knowed 
when  she  was  a  gal.  Says  she,  sort  o'  dyin'- 
calf-like,  'Law,  Bill,  is  that  you?  '  And  I  takes 
her  hand  with  one  of  mine,  and  with  the  other 
I  draws  out  my  red  bandanna  and  I  weeps  regu- 
lar briny  tears,  and  then  I  talks  ole  times  to 
sorter  cheer  her  up  till  I  hed  to  go. 

"  But,  blister  my  boots,  boys,  'bout  the  time 
I  looks  fer  one  o'  them  black  framed  envy-lopes 
to  tell  me  Mary  Ann  had  slipped  over  the  horizon 
on  her  last  voyage,  here  come  a  pink  letter,  lads. 
1  I  didn't  die,'  she  writes,  '  an'  I  ain't  got  no 
notion  o'  dyin'  now.  Seems  like  that  sweet  face 
o'  yonrn  jus'  snatched  me  from  the  grave.  I'm 
up  and  about  an',  'cept  fer  a  leetle  tech  o'  lum- 
bago, I'm  sound  as  a  ole  kittle.  A  mustard 


74  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

plaster  and  you,  Bill,  will  make  me  the  Mary 
Ann  I  used  to  be,  I'm  shore.'  Blister  my  boots, 
she  sends  me  'bout  six  o'  them  health  bulletins, 
each  one  healthier  than  the  one  befo',  but  nary  a 
scratch  has  I  writ.  I  ain't  a-lookin'  fer  no  grave- 
yard ceremony.  She  wouldn't  take  me  when  I 
was  young  and  she  don't  git  me  when  I'm  old. 
I'm  spliced  to  the  sea  that  don't  never  have  no 
lumbago,  an',  when  she  hollers  and  howls  and 
yells  and  carries  on,  it's  jest  to  show  the  spunk 
she's  got  in  her.  I  ain't  takin'  on  no  cargo  at 
my  time  o'  life.  I'm  a-sailin'  light  and  easy  till 
I  puts  in  my  last  port." 

Again  Cap'n  Buffum  drew  on  his  pipe,  proba- 
bly to  hide  a  tear  that  seemed  to  be  forming  in 
the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"  Nothin'  ain't  goin'  to  down  me,  lads,"  he 
burst  out  suddenly.  "  It's  too  fine  a  day.  It's 
a  fine  day,  an'  the  sea  looks  like  a  fishpond,  but 
she's  like  some  folks;  they're  a-plannin'  and 
a-plottin'  their  meanest  when  they  looks  the 
mildest.  Some  days  I've  seen  the  sea  look  jus' 
like  that  an',  fus'  thing  you  knows,  my  corns 
begins  to  ache  and  the  nex  mornin'  she's  a-skin- 
nin'  the  cat  and  a-cuttin'  up  like  she  done 


At  Cape  Peril  75 

lost  her  senses;  an'  they're  a-achin'  to-day 
sorter,  an'  thar  ain't  no  tellin'  what's  comin* 
tomorrow." 

4  *  Then  maybe  we  '11  get  some  breakers  to 
ride,"  said  Cat  enthusiastically,  with  the  secret 
hope  that  the  prophetic  ache  would  continue. 
."  But,  Cap'n  Buffum,  tell  us  about  some  of  your 
sea  experiences.  You  must  have  had  some  hot 
ones." 

11  When  I  fust  knowed  the  sea,"  proceeded 
the  Cap'n  without  further  urging,  "  them  was 
times,  them  was.  But  I  give  her  up  because  all 
the  old  windjammers  was  gone  an'  the  old  style 
steamers,  an*  I  didn't  have  no  taste  for  these 
new  bilers  and  en-jines  they  run  'em  with  these 
days.  An'  I'm  glad  I  give  it  up,  lads,  befV  them 
submarines  sneakin'  round  underneath  the  water 
and  things  sailin'  overhead  had  plumb  spiled  the 
sea.  These  hyuh  inventors  has  plumb  sp'iled  it, 
and,  as  fer  seamanship  these  days,  'tain't  nothin* 
in  it  no  longer. 

' '  '  Twar  many  a  year  ago  I  read  that  yarn 
Twenty  Thousand  Leagues  Under  the  Sea,  and 
says  I  to  myself,  says  I,  the  Frenchman  that 
wrote  that  ain't  safe  aboveboard.  Then  come 


76  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

along  a  War  of  the  Worlds,  a  tale  about  ships 
a-flyin'  in  the  air,  and  I  throwed  that  trash 
away,  and  says  I,  '  That's  a  danged  sight  craz- 
ier,' but,  blister  my  boots,  these  hyuh  submarines 
and  them  airjammers  o'  Hardy's,  they  done  both 
come  true.  But  111  tell  you  some  yarns  of  what 
I  seen  befo'  that." 

Whereupon,  between  puffs,  Cap'n  Buffum  kept 
the  audience  rigid  with  interest  for  two  full 
hours  with  some  of  his  wildest  experiences  of 
the  deep.  Then  followed  an  excursion  to  the 
turret  and  an  explanation  of  the  mechanism  of 
the  powerful  revolving  light.  Then  back  to  the 
room  below  they  went  for  an  inspection  of  his 
museum.  This  done,  the  host  was  in  the  midst 
of  a  recital  of  some  of  the  most  disastrous  wrecks 
on  the  shoals  of  Cape  Peril  when  Hardy  turned 
up.  With  the  greatest  reluctance,  the  boys  were 
prevailed  upon  to  go,  and  then  only  with  an 
understanding  that  they  might  come  back  again 
at  the  earliest  possible  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   INTEKKUPTED    MESSAGE 

The  next  morning  Legs  awoke  early  and,  after 
inspecting  his  watch,  was  about  to  settle  him- 
self for  another  hour's  snooze  when  he  detected 
a  sputtering  sound  and  instantly  recognized  it 
as  the  wireless  in  action.  Footfalls  on  the  flat 
roof  of  the  kitchen  ell  confirmed  him  in  the 
opinion  that  Turner  was  taking  or  sending  a 
message.  Straightway,  the  youngster  was  seized 
by  an  itching  desire  to  witness  the  apparatus 
in  operation,  and  all  thought  of  further  sleep 
vanished. 

Very  softly  he  arose,  slipped  on  his  clothes, 
and  was  hurrying  on  his  way  to  seek  the  outer 
stairway  leading  to  the  roof  of  the  annex  when 
he  stopped  short  and  drew  back  on  discovering, 
out  on  the  porch,  Hardy  and  Turner  (the  latter 
evidently  just  arrived)  deeply  absorbed  in 
conversation. 

"  That's  what  it  said,"  Turner  was  announc- 
ing, "  that's  every  last  word  I  could  get. 

77 


78  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

'  Lighthouse  keeper  at  Kitty  Hawk  ill.  Bring 
Smith  from  Knott's  Island  this  morning  with- 
out delay.  You  can  make  it  if  you  hurry. 
There's  a  terrible — ',  and  that's  all  I  could  pick 
up,  though  I  listened  till  my  ears  ached." 

Hardy  paced  up  and  down  a  few  moments. 
11  Terrible  what,  do  you  suppose?  Battle,  mur- 
der, or  sudden  death?  " 

"  You  can  search  me.  All  you  know  is  that 
you've  got  to  beat  it  and  beat  it  good  and  quick. 
Beckon  they  had  too  much  gumption  to  ask 
you  to  bump  a  hurricane." 

"Confound  it!"  grumbled  Hardy.  "When 
I  took  this  job,  I  didn't  count  on  carrying  light- 
house keepers  around  over  all  creation.  Say, 
run  up  there,  will  you,  and  try  your  wire  again 
while  I  get  some  stuff  together.  If  I've  got  to 
go,  I've  got  to  —  there  are  no  two  ways  about  it." 

As  the  birdman  rushed  through  the  door,  he 
nearly  unset  Legs  in  his  haste. 

"  Hello  1  Down  already?"  he  rattled,  and 
then,  as  if  seized  by  a  sudden  inspiration,  "  Look 
here,  old  fellow,  how  would  you  like  to  go  with 
me  in  the  plane  as  far  as  Knott's  Island,  about 
twenty  miles  from  here?  I'll  leave  you  there 


At  Cape  Peril  79 

with  a  friend  of  mine  and  pick  you  up  on  my 
way  home  this  afternoon.  Got  to  carry  a  light- 
house doctor  from  here  to  Kitty  Hawk  about 
forty  miles  further.  How  about  it?  Quick,  right 
off  the  bat!  " 

The  suddenness  of  the  invitation  staggered 
Legs  and  almost  floored  him. 

"  Want  me  to  go?  "  Then  after  a  second's 
hesitation.  "  Sure  I'll  go.  You  bet  I'd  like  to 
go,"  said  the  lad,  too  flattered  by  the  honor  to 
feel  much  nervousness  over  the  adventure. 

"  That's  what  I  call  a  man!  Now,  come  on, 
help  me  to  throw  some  plunder  into  a  bag." 

11  How  'bout  calling  the  other  fellows?  "  sug- 
gested the  boy,  on  the  track  of  the  scurrying 
birdman. 

11  Hang  the  other  fellows!  We  haven't  got 
time  to  fool  with  them.  Chase  yourself." 

In  high  feather,  yet  quivering  from  excite- 
ment, Legs  kept  at  Hardy's  heels  as  the  man 
grabbed  a  small  satchel  from  a  shelf,  rushed  to 
the  pantry  and  shoveled  into  the  receptacle, 
without  a  word  of  explanation  to  the  petrified 
Luke,  some  remains  of  the  last  evening's  feast, 
then  dashed  upstairs  for  an  aviator's  coat  for 


80  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

himself  and  one  for  Legs;  thrust  into  his  belt 
the  pistol  which  he  had  official  license  to  carry; 
bounded  from  the  house,  and  called  up  to  Turner 
to  know  if  he  could  squeeze  anything  more  out 
of  the  wireless. 

"  Not  a  buzz,"  cried  the  man  aloft.  "  Not  a 
sizzle." 

"  Then  come  on  down  and  help  us  with  the 
plane." 

As  the  three  were  jog-trotting  along  towards 
the  hangar,  the  Tarheel  prudently  raised  some 
sharp  objections  to  Hardy's  plan  for  the  boy, 
but,  with  the  assurance  that  the  passenger  was 
to  be  dropped  at  Knott's  Island,  he  subsided. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  the  bird  had  started  on 
its  journey. 

"  Gee!  they'll  be  sore,"  thought  the  rising 
Legs  with  great  elation,  as  he  waved  down  upon 
his  belated  companions,  who  came  running  across 
the  sand.  "  This  is  where  I  score."  And,  snug- 
gling in  his  coat,  began  to  goggle  the  surround- 
ing sky  and  the  sea  beneath  with  more  self- 
possession  and  courage  than  he  had  on  his 
initiation. 

Over  the  lighthouse  rose  Windjammer  and,  at 


At  Cape  Peril  81 

a  suitable  elevation,  was  soon  speeding  above  a 
sandy  strip  separating  what  appeared  to  be  a 
vast  inland  lake  on  the  one  hand  and  the  ocean 
on  the  other.  To  the  lad's  eyes,  a  singular 
change  had  taken  place  in  the  water,  due  to  the 
curling  whitecaps.  The  sky  also  had  changed 
its  aspect  of  the  day  before.  The  sun  shone  red 
and  sinister  through  a  weird  mist,  and  from  the 
rim  of  the  southern  horizon  great  clouds  were 
surging. 

Beyond  the  region  of  the  landlocked  waters, 
great  stretches  of  woodland  and  the  farms  of 
the  trucking  land  miles  inland  from  the  sand 
and  marsh  area  came  in  view.  Soon  the  state 
boundary  was  crossed,  and  immediately  beneath 
the  flyer  gleamed  another  sand  ridge,  the  begin- 
ning of  that  barrier  extending,  with  breaks  here 
and  there,  almost  the  whole  length  of  the  Caro- 
lina coast.  For  a  space  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles 
the  ocean  stretched  boundlessly  on  the  left,  and 
on  the  right  spread  the  upper  waters  of  Curri- 
tuck  Sound.  Then  there  came  into  view  a 
sparsely  wooded  sandy  island  with  groups  of 
tiny  houses  at  wide  intervals.  Now  Hardy, 
steering  to  the  right,  crossed  a  narrow  inlet, 


82  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

hovered  over  a  village  and  planed  down  to  a 
grassy  spot  not  more  than  a  stones  throw  from 
the  marshy  shoreline. 

"  All  out  for  Knott's  Island,"  sang  out  the 
pilot  as  he  alighted  under  the  staring  eyes  of  a 
group  of  fishermen.  "  Boy,  you're  a  seasoned 
birdman,"  he  added  patting  the  exultant  lad  on 
the  shoulder.  "  You're  wearing  your  wings; 
you're  getting  the  bird  look  in  your  eyes. 
But,  see  here,  keep  off  the  swell-head  and,  while 
I  chase  off  for  Smith,  keep  a  close  watch  on  this 
plane  and  don't  let  any  of  those  oyster  rubes 
get  their  whiskers  tangled  in  my  propeller.  I'll 
bring  Nash  back  with  me  and  turn  you  over  to 
him  to  keep  till  I  get  back.  Hell  stuff  you  with 
prunes  and  persimmons.  He  has  a  grocery  store 
yonder." 

Hardy  strode  off  to  the  shop,  a  few  rods  up 
the  shore. 

"Well,  I'll  be  switched!  Hello,  sky  pilot," 
hailed  the  grocer,  bluff  and  hearty,  red-headed 
and  red-cheeked,  in  shirt  sleeves  and  corduroy 
breeches  spotted  with  marks  of  flour  and  other 
reminders  of  his  trade.  "  Saw  you  coming  with 
a  tail  to  your  kite.  Looks  more  like  chine  than 


At  Cape  Peril  83 

good  red  herring."  He  shot  out  a  stubby  finger 
in  the  direction  of  Legs. 

"  Just  a  kid  I  brought  along  for  company," 
explained  Hardy.  "  But  look  here,  have  you 
heard— 1" 

"A  kid!  "  interrupted  Nash.  "  Now  I  know 
you're  a  fool.  Thought  you  were  dippy  enough 
to  be  windjammering  by  yourself,  let  alone  bring- 
ing ballast  with  you.  Haven't  you  heard  of  that 
gale  whipping  up  the  coast  at  a  hundred  miles  an 
hour." 

"  What!  What's  that?  "  exclaimed  the  star- 
tled pilot.  "A  gale!  The  deuce  you  say!  " 

"  What  are  you  givin'  us?  Haven't  you  got  a 
wire  at  Cape  Peril?  " 

In  hurried  words,  Hardy  told  of  the  broken 
message. 

"  This  fills  the  gap  then,"  said  Nash.  "  Tele- 
gram came  this  A.  M.  early !  '  Put  storm  signals 
out  along  coast.  West  Indian  gale  sweepin' 
north.  Central  now  off  coast  of  Florida.'  Take 
a  look  at  that  barometer,  will  you?  " 

The  pilot  glanced  at  the  instrument  attached 
to  the  door  frame. 

11  Doesn't  look  good  a  bit.    But  I  reckon  I  can 


84  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

make  Kitty  Hawk.  Now  to  get  that  fellow  Smith 
in  a  jiffy." 

"  You  can  go  over  and  see.  He  was  hangin' 
around  the  store  yestiddy,  but  seems  like  I  heard 
somebody  say  he  pulled  out  to  Roanoke  Island 
last  night  on  a  tugboat." 

"  Darn  I  "  exploded  Hardy,  staring  vacantly 
about  him,  and  then  turned  to  rush  over  to 
Smith's  cottage  several  hundred  yards  away. 
Twelve  minutes  later  he  was  back,  looking  his 
stormiest. 

"  Talk  about  wild-goose  chases!  "  he  fumed  to 
Nash.  "  That  chump  Smith's  wife  says  he's  gone 
to  Dareville  on  business,  but  I'll  sure  find  him 
there.  She  bristled  and  looked  sour  about  the 
Kitty  Hawk  proposition,  but  I'm  going  to  get 
him  there  if  I  have  to  make  a  pancake  landing 
to  do  it.  This  is  the  deuce!  " 

"  Better  lie  low  here,  that's  my  advice," 
warned  Nash. 

Hardy  shook  his  head  impatiently. 

"  Orders  are  orders.  I  learned  that  in  the 
army,"  declared  the  pilot  firmly.  "  Now  if 
you'll  keep  an  eye  on  Hatton — " 

"  I'll   keep   two   on  him.     Here   comes   your 


At  Cape  Peril  85 

Sonny  Longlegs  now.  Looks  like  he  thought 
sompin'  was  after  trim." 

He  pointed  to  the  lad  sprinting  toward  them 
with  such  speed  as  he  might  have  exhibited  in 
front  of  a  legion  of  tigers. 

"  Hardy!  Hardy!  "  panted  the  boy  as  he 
bounded  up.  "  Come  quick!  Come  quick!  " 

There  was  a  note  of  tragic  insistence  in  his 
tone,  but  Hardy  was  not  the  sort  of  fellow  to  be 
stampeded. 

"Great  guns!  What's  up  now?"  he 
demanded.  "  What's  got  into  you,  boy?  " 

"One  —  one  —  one  of  father's  lifeboats  — 
with  a  hole  in  it  —  on  the  shore  there." 

He  pointed  tremblingly  at  a  line  of  boats  on 
the  sloping  bank  not  far  from  the  airplane. 

"  Why,  you're  crazy.  One  of  your  father's 
lifeboats!  He's  in  Mexico!  " 

"  But  I  know  it  is!  I  know  it  is!  "  insisted 
the  lad.  "  I  found  my  initials  I  cut  on  it  a  long 
time  ago.  You  don't  think  the  yacht's  gone 
down,  do  you?  " 

He  was  already  dragging  Hardy  along,  while 
the  grocer,  in  dumb  astonishment,  toddled  after 
on  his  fat,  round  legs. 


86  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  Keep  your  head,  Hatton,"  commanded 
Hardy;  "  don't  talk  tommyrot.'  What  in  the 
name  of  herring  could  one  of  the  yacht's  boats 
be  doing  way  up  here?  " 

The  boy  slackened  his  pace  a  bit  to  rattle  off 
his  story.  When  Hardy  had  left  for  the  store, 
he  related,  he  kept  an  eye  on  the  plane,  but 
moved  over  closer  to  the  beach.  Among  several 
boats  lying  there,  one  had  instantly  attracted  his 
attention  on  account  of  its  being  a  type  quite 
different  from  those  used  by  oystermen.  Draw- 
ing nearer  to  inspect  it  better,  he  discovered  that 
one  side  had  been  staved  in  as  by  the  blows  of 
an  axe.  The  name  on  either  side  of  the  prow 
seemed  to  have  been  sandpapered  out,  but  some 
fragments  of  letters  still  visible  convinced  him 
that  the  name  had  been  The  Jolly  Ruffian.  To 
confirm  his  suspicions,  he  found  cut  in  the  wood 
of  the  gunwale  the  letters  W.  M.  M.  H.  This 
piece  of  mischief  he  had  perpetrated  five  years 
before,  and  his  misdeed  had  been  deeply 
impressed  upon  him  by  a  spanking. 

Partly  convinced  by  the  story,  Hardy  reached 
the  bont,  inspected  it  carefully,  and  agreed  with 
Nash  that  the  evidence  was  overwhelming.  The 


At  Cape  Peril  87 

boat  undoubtedly  belonged  to  the  Hatton  yacht. 

Most  of  the  neighboring  fishermen  had  gath- 
ered about  the  plane,  but  one  weatherbeaten  old 
fellow  sat  mending  a  net  by  the  waterside,  stop- 
ping every  now  and  then  to  cast  uneasy  glances 
at  the  trio  pow-wowing  over  the  lifeboat. 

"  Who's  this  smashed-in  boat  belong  to?  " 

11  My  boat,"  shouted  back  the  old  man  in  a 
tone  that  implied,  "  And  what  business  is  it  of 
yours?  " 

"  Wouldn't  mind  coming  over  and  telling  us 
where  you  got  it,  would  you?  "  urged  Nash. 

The  fisherman  arose  and  walked  over  delib- 
erately. 

"  Go  ahead  and  tell  him,  Mr.  Hall,"  coaxed 
Nash  when  the  man  arrived.  "  He's  all  right." 

"  Buy  it?  "  quizzed  Hardy,  in  a  hurry  to  be 
done  with  the  business  and  off  on  his  errand. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  was  the  brusque  reply.  "  It 
ain't  yourn,  is  it?  What  you  askin'  fer?  " 

"  To  come  right  to  the  point,  my  friend,  this 
boat  here  looks  very  much  like  one  I've  seen 
before,  and  I'd  just  like  for  curiosity  to  know 
how  it  came  here." 

"They're  all  right,"  encouraged  Nash  once 


88  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

more.     "  Tell   'em.     You're  a  friend  of  mine, 
ain't  you?  " 

"  Well,  if  you're  a  friend  of  Tom  Nash  thar," 
he  drawled,  jerking  his  head  towards  the  grocer, 
11  I  don't  mind  talkin',  but  I  ain't  much  set  on 
unloadin'  my  own  business  on  strangers.  And 
what's  more,  I  say  nobody  ain't  goin'  to  get  their 
hands  on  this  boat  unless  they  can  prove  it 
b 'longs  to  'em.  That's  whar  I  stand.  The  way 
I  come  across  it  was  this  way.  Less'n  two  weeks 
ago  I  was  out  dredgin'  my  oyster  beds  'bout 
two  shouts  and  a  fling  from  hyuh  and  the  tongs 
got  hold  o'  sumpin'  that  felt  powerful  funny.  Me 
and  my  son,  we  jerks  and  jerks,  but  couldn't 
move  it  a  peg.  Then  I  gets  a  boy  to  dive  down 
and  feel  of  it,  and  the  boy,  says  he,  'It's  a  boat, 
a  rowboat.'  Then  me  and  my  son  gets  a  big 
iron  hook  and  a  chain  and  hitches  on  to  that  boat 
in  'bout  fifteen  feet  o'  water  and  hauls  it  over 
to  the  shallow  marsh  and  drags  it  asho'  and 
with  that  thar  hole  stove  in  it.  I  asked  every- 
body I  seed,  and  nobody  don't  know  nary  a 
thing  'bout  whar  it  come  from.  Then  I  says,  it's 
mine  till  somebody  can  prove  a  claim  to  it,  that's 
what  I  says." 


At  Cape  Peril  89 

"  Then  you  have  no  suspicion  as  to  who  sunk 
it  or  where  it  came  from?  Nobody  suspicious 
been  seen  around?  "  persisted  Hardy. 

"  No,  sir,  not  so  far  as  I  knows,"  declared  the 
witness,  and  then,  after  a  few  moments'  hesita- 
tion, he  pointed  to  a  lanky  man  in  an  oilskin 
coat  in  the  group  around  the  airplane.  "  I 
recollect  Joe  Turpin,  that  tallest  man  yonder,  did 
say  that  he  give  some  grub  to  a  tramp  one  night 
'bout  the  time  I  found  the  boat.  He  said  he  came 
from  Eoanoke  Island  and  his  name  was  Buffalo 
Dare  or  some  such." 

Unable  to  get  any  further  information  from 
Hall,  Hardy  directed  the  excited  Hatton  to  stay 
where  he  was  while  he  himself  interviewed  the 
man  in  oilskin.  Joe  Turpin  answered  the  ques- 
tions after  some  coaxing.  The  stranger,  he 
asserted,  was  a  short,  stocky,  smooth-faced  man 
with  a  rattlesnake  sort  of  eye,  but  he  stood  out 
of  the  light  with  a  slouch  hat  pulled  down  over 
him  face,  and  the  witness  wasn't  sure  he  could 
recognize  him  if  he  saw  him  in  tEe  daylight. 

"  He  wore  sto*  clothes,"  continued  Turpin, 
"  and  didn't  look  like  our  folks.  He  paid  for  his 
food.  Said  he  was  an  Indian  traveling  to  Dare 


90  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

County  and  that  his  name  was  Buffalo  Dare. ' ' 

This  source  of  evidence  exhausted,  Hardy 
found  that  the  other  men  in  the  group  had  no 
knowledge  whatever  of  the  stranger,  so  he  hur- 
ried back  to  the  oystennan  for  a  last  word. 

"  I  don't  want  no  other  folks'  belongin's," 
insisted  the  old  man,  "  but  nobody  ain't  goin' 
to  get  that  boat  but  the  lawful  owner,  and  then 
only  when  he  forks  out  fifteen  dollars  fer  haulin' 
it  out  of  the  oyster  bed.  It  was  wuth  every 
cent  of  it,  and  it  kilt  some  o'  my  young  oysters, 
too." 

"  Now,  Hatton,"  said  the  pilot,  turning  to 
the  boy,  who  had  followed  every  word  of  the 
oysterman  with  breathless  interest.  "  You  stay 
here  with  Nash  and  don't  worry.  You  know 
your  father's  been  heard  from.  I  s'pose  one  of 
his  boats  got  adrift  when  he  laid  over  in  the 
Sound,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  I've  wasted 
too  much  time  already.  Nash,  take  care  of  him 
till  I  get  back." 

Legs,  however,  was  in  no  mood  to  be  shaken 
off.  As  fast  as  the  words  could  tumble  out  of 
his  mouth,  he  argued  he  must  get  to  Roanoke 
Island  to  find  out  something  further;  it  would  be 


At  Cape  Peril  91 

impossible  for  him  to  stay  in  that  lonesome  spot, 
and  so  on.  Hardy  frowned,  looked  fierce,  posi- 
tively refused  to  let  him  go,  melted  a  little, 
and  then,  after  a  short  consultation  with  Nash 
about  the  prospects  of  the  weather  for  the  next 
hour,  finally  gave  in. 

"  Anything  to  keep  the  peace;  but  if  the  wind 
gets  stiff er  I'm  going  to  land  and  leave  you  even 
if  it's  in  a  wilderness  twenty  miles  from 
civilization. ' ' 

Up  went  the  bird,  amid  the  wondering  long- 
shoremen, the  pilot  steering  from  Currituck 
Sound  to  the  mainland;  he  then  left  Currituck 
County  behind,  passed  over  Dare  County,  and, 
turning  east  across  a  narrow  inlet,  drove  across 
Roanoke  Island  in  a  freshening  breeze,  hovered 
over  a  hamlet,  glided  down,  and  landed  even  keel 
in  the  outskirts  of  Dareville  on  the  seaward  side 
of  the  island. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  HAUNTS  OF  BUFFALO  DARE 

When  the  pilot  had  safely  landed  at  Dareville, 
inquiry  brought  out  the  news  that  Smith  had 
gone  to  Manteo,  a  settlement  two  miles  away. 
It  was  getting  to  be  a  needle  hunt  in  a  haystack 
and,  with  the  wind  rising  every  moment,  Hardy 
was  growing  desperate.  He  felt  very  much  as 
an  angry  porcupine  looks,  and  expressed  himself 
accordingly  to  a  group  of  villagers.  The  offer  of 
an  obliging  citizen  to  go  post-haste  in  his  auto 
for  the  elusive  Smith  was  eagerly  accepted. 

"  If  this  ain't  the  dickens!  "  exploded  Hardy 
to  Legs.  "  If  I  ever  get  my  hands  on  that  son  of 
a  gun,  fat  chance  he'll  have  to  wriggle  out  till 
I  drive  his  head  into  the  Kitty  Hawk  light- 
house. What's  the  use  of  getting  hot,  though!  " 
he  concluded.  "It's  all  in  a  lifetime.  Let's  go 
over  to  that  swell  hotel  there  and  eat  while  we're 
waiting. ' ' 

Legs  began  to  press  the  Buffalo  Dare  mystery. 

"  Look  here,"  argued  the  pilot,  "  my  first  job 

02 


At  Cape  Peril  93 

is  to  load  and  unload  Smith.  In  an  hour  and  a 
half,  at  the  outside,  I'll  be  back,  and  it  looks  like 
a  dead  certainty  we'll  be  marooned  here  all 
night  and  maybe  all  tomorrow  and,  for  all  I  know, 
a  whole  week.  Oodles  of  time  for  detective 
work.  But  to  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  Hatton, 
I  don't  see  why  you  plague  yourself  about  that 
boat  business.  Don't  look  so  bilious.  You'll 
have  some  fun  before  you  die." 

Legs  quieted  down  and  Hardy  was  busy  with 
his  own  thoughts  till  the  pair  reached  the  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  Tavern,  a  dilapidated  two-story 
building  just  opposite  the  general  merchandise 
store  known  as  "  The  Emporium,"  which  latter 
also  housed  the  postoffice.  Through  this  last 
fact  the  loafers  on  the  Raleigh  porch  had  the 
tremendous  advantage  of  gazing  on  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  in  the  village  at  some  period 
of  the  day.  The  newcomers  passed  some  of  these 
idle  gentry  as  they  entered  the  doorway  and 
found  themselves  in  a  long  dining  room,  one 
corner  of  which  served  as  the  office  of  the  land- 
lord, the  principal  function  of  whose  desk  seemed 
the  support  of  his  pair  of  very  dirty  boots. 

Of  the  eight  tables,  one  was  occupied  by  a  tall 


94  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

individual  whose  back  was  turned* to  the  pilot 
and  his  companion.  A  waiter  was  sauntering 
around,  apparently  trying  to  persuade  himself 
that  he  was  busy  with  a  mop  and  a  bucket.  Two 
clodhoppers,  one  with  the  round,  yellow  face  of 
a  Hallowe'en  pumpkin  and  the  other  possessing 
the  sharp,  startled  look  of  a  rabbit,  were  stand- 
ing by  a  window  lazily  engaged  with  their 
toothpicks. 

Hardy,  addressed  as  "  Brother  "  by  the  land- 
lord, was  informed  he  could  get  coffee  and  ham 
and  eggs. 

"  Long  sweetenin'  or  short  in  yor  coffee?  " 
inquired  the  negro  waiter  when  he  found  time 
for  the  order. 

Hardy  decided  on  "  short,"  explaining  to  the 
puzzled  lad  that  "  long  "  was  molasses,  very 
popular  in  these  regions  —  a  fact  which  had  not 
escaped  the  attention  of  the  flies,  as  attested 
by  their  swarming  over  everything. 

For  a  minute  or  so,  the  two  men  by  the  win- 
dow stared  at  the  newcomers  in  solemn  silence; 
then,  removing  their  toothpicks,  they  abruptly 
launched  into  the  following  dialogue: 

"  Looks    like    we    was    goin'    to    have    some 


At  Cape  Peril  95 

weather, "  drawled  Rabbit-face,  casting  an  eye 
up  toward  the  window  like  a  duck  looking  for 
thunder.  "  Bio  win'  right  smart,  ain't  it?  " 

"Certain  sho'  is!"  returned  his  friend,  on 
the  same  key.  "  Tain't  no  fittin'  time  fer  them 
submarines  to  be  flyin'  in,  is  it?  " 

"  What  you  talkin'  'bout,  Bill  Hulfish?  Sub- 
marines don't  fly;  they  swims  and  dives  in  the 
ocean  same  as  fish  do.  Them's  airyplanes  you 
mean.  I  seen  two  o'  them  there  things  at  the 
State  F'ar  'bout  a  mile  up  in  the  air,  and  a 
fool  stepped  off'n  one  smack  on  t'other  same  as 
you  step  out  o'  yo'  kitchen  back  do'  right  spank 
in  the  hawgpen." 

"  Git  out,  Jim,"  observed  Pumpkin-face,  with- 
out showing  any  heat  at  the  insinuation  that  he 
lived  cheek  by  jowl  with  his  porkers. 

"  Fac',"  asserted  Rabbit-face. 

"Well,  I'll  be  jiggered!  He  was  danged 
crazy,"  inferred  Pumpkin. 

*  *  If  fools  is  fools  'taint  no  business  o '  mine  or 
yourn,  is  it?  "  queried  Rabbit-face.  "  Ev'ybody 
to  their  taste  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she 
up  and  kissed  the  heifer." 

"  I  don't  say  contrary.    All  the  lunytics  ain't 


96  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

been  put  in  the  'sylum  yet,  or  if  they  has  been, 
some  has  bus'  loose." 

"  Ought  to  be  a  open  season  fer  huntin'  then! 
sort  o'  birds  all  the  year  roun',"  decided  Babbit. 

Whereupon  they  looked  at  one  another,  laughed 
hoarsely,  and  dropped  into  a  stare  at  the  bird- 
man  and  his  fledgling,  showing  as  clearly  as 
glances  can  that  they  were  the  target  of  the  last 
remark.  Hardy  was  not  touchy,  but  he  couldn't 
resist  twisting  about  and  returning  a  challenging 
stare.  As  this  movement  brought  to  view  the 
weapon  at  his  belt,  the  rustics  decided  the  season, 
was  not  quite  so  open  as  they  had  thought, 
hitched  at  their  breeches,  sidestepped,  and  scut- 
tled out  of  the  door,  much  to  the  amusement  of 
Legs  as  well  as  of  the  landlord. 

During  the  wait  for  the  lunch  and  while  they 
were  eating,  Hardy  answered  Legs'  questions 
with  regard  to  the  famous  Blackbeard  who  met 
his  end  in  these  regions.  From  this  he  passed 
on  to  mention  of  the  early  explorers. 

"  Near  here,"  he  related,  "  were  the  Indian 
villages  discovered  by  the  expeditions  sent  out 
by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  who  named  this  country 
Virginia  in  honor  of  the  Virgin  Queen.  The  first 


At  Cape  Peril  97 

expedition  landed  in  July,  1584.  At  the  north 
end  of  this  island,  I've  seen  the  spot  where  they 
say  the  original  village  of  the  Indians  stood  — 
nine  houses  built  of  cedar  and  fortified  with 
stakes. 

"  In  1585,  the  next  year,  another  expedition 
came  out,  and  the  white  men  were  well  treated 
by  the  savages.  These  Englishmen  brought 
with  them  a  painter  named  John  White,  who  car- 
ried back  to  Queen  Elizabeth  water-color  pictures 
he  made  of  the  natives.  One  funny  thing  he  said 
in  his  account  was  that  the  savages  built  plat- 
forms in  their  cornfields  and  made  a  squaw  sit 
on  a  chair  up  there  and  keep  up  a  terrible 
squawking  and  howling  to  scare  off  the  beasts 
and  birds  from  the  crops  —  human  scarecrows 
and  pretty  lively  ones,  I'll  say. 

"  Now  the  last  expedition  sent  out  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  cleaned  out  completely  by 
the  Indians.  The  word  Croatan  carved  on  the 
bark  of  a  tree  was  the  only  mark  left  by  them 
that  could  be  found.  By  the  way,  before  this, 
the  wife  of  a  man  who  rejoiced  in  the  cheerful 
name  of  Ananias  Dare,  kin  to  our  friend  Buffalo, 
I  dare  say,  gave  birth  to  a  daughter  named  Vir- 


98  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

ginia  Dare,  and  she  was  the  first  English  child 
born  on  American  soil.  Some  people  claim  the 
lost  Englishmen  married  into  the  Indian  tribes 
and  t)  at  descendants  of  theirs  are  still  living, 
but  that's  all  hot  air." 

While  Hardy,  to  cover  his  impatience,  was 
enlightening  the  interested  lad,  the  individual 
eating  with  his  back  turned  had  begun  to  show 
more  attention  to  the  pilot's  story  than  to  his 
own  meal.  He  started  to  clear  his  throat,  rattle 
his  knife  and  fork,  work  his  shoulders  and  dis- 
play other  marks  of  bodily  disturbance.  But  when 
Hardy  paused  after  his  "  hot  air  "  statement, 
the  stranger,  a  tall  gaunt  man  with  a  shock  of 
red  hair,  bounded  up  and  displayed  flaming  eyes 
to  the  pair  at  the  other  table. 

"I'm  hot  air,  am  I?  Hot  air,  hot  air,  hot 
air!" 

And  then,  without  attempting  any  violence 
against  Hardy  and  Legs,  who  jumped  up  ready 
to  defend  themselves,  he  seized  his  hat  and,  toss- 
ing his  head,  rushed  from  the  room. 

Before  the  two  guests  had  quite  recovered 
from  their  astonishment,  the  landlord,  his  sides 
shaking  with  mirth,  came  over  to  explain. 


At  Cape  Peril  99 

"  Crazy  as  a  Junebug,  but  harmless,  only  you 
tread  on  Ms  toes  good  and  proper.  His  name  is 
Ketcham,  but  he  thinks  he's  a  descendant  of  that 
Virginia  Dare,  so  the  kids  around  here  call  him 
Buffalo  Dare  and  run  after  him  yelling,  '  You 
ketch  him;  I'll  skin  him.'  " 

"  Buffalo  Dare!  "  exclaimed  Legs,  popping 
his  eyes. 

"  Does  this  man  ever  row  around  in  a  boat?  " 
asked  Hardy  eagerly.  "  Does  he  ever  go  over  to 
Knott's  Island?  " 

"  He  never  rowed  no  thin'  but  a  herring," 
returned  the  landlord,  chuckling  at  his  own  jest. 
"  Bow  no  thin',  and  I've  seen  him  every  day 
fer  years.  He  eats  here  on  a  meal  ticket  his 
brother  pays  for.  He's  harmless,  so  they  don't 
put  him  in  the  bughouse.  Just  gets  daffy  when 
the  kids  pester  him  about  that  Buffalo  business." 

"  But,  say,  Hardy,"  interposed  Legs,  not  fully 
recovered  from  his  start,  "  I  bet  he  is  the  same 
man,  though." 

"  Couldn't  be,"  objected  Hardy.  "  The  fellow 
seen  on  the  island  was  short  and  smooth-faced 
and  black;  this  crazy  loot  has  red  whiskers." 

Legs  was  about  to  push  the  subject  further 


100  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

when  there  was  commotion  in  front  of  the  inn, 
announcing  the  arrival  of  the  auto  with  Smith. 

"  Can't  talk,  boy,"  shouted  the  pilot,  throw- 
ing Legs  some  money  to  pay  for  the  lunch. 
"  Here,  stay  here  and  wait  for  me.  Good-bye, 
I'm  gone.  Back  in  less'n  two  hours,  sure." 

Out  of  the  door  flashed  the  birdman,  seized  the 
protesting  Smith,  swore  the  wind  wouldn't  hurt 
a  kitten,  and  dragged  him  off  almost  bodily  in 
the  direction  of  the  plane.  Legs  followed,  but 
in  the  excitement  got  no  attention  and  very  for- 
lornly watched  the  hurried  preparation  of  the 
pilot  and  his  speedy  departure  in  the  teeth  of  a 
good  stiff  wind  sweeping  over  the  Sound. 

The  hours  dragged  heavily  by,  one,  two,  three, 
four,  still  no  Hardy.  At  the  end  of  two  hours, 
in  fact,  no  rational  person  could  be  expected  to 
venture  anywhere  in  an  airship.  The  first  good, 
strong  whip  of  the  gale  was  in  evidence,  and 
with  it  came  dark  and  threatening  rain  clouds. 
Time  and  again,  Legs  hurried  down  to  the  shore 
and  gazed  over  the  waters  in  the  direction  of 
Kitty  Hawk.  Gulls  were  circling  landward  with 
plaintive  cries.  Every  now  and  then,  one  of 
these  marine  birds,  a  speck  in  the  far  distance, 


At  Cape  Peril  101 

would  tempt  him  for  a  moment  to  believe  the 
plane  was  on  its  way. 

Boats  speeded  shoreward  under  all  the  force 
of  the  oars;  but  none  of  the  disembarking  long- 
shoremen reported  having  seen  the  plane  since 
it  sailed  seaward.  Indeed,  they  thought  it  an 
idiotic  question  to  ask.  With  the  fourth  hour  of 
Hardy's  absence,  the  wind  was  blowing  with  such 
velocity  and  driving  the  rain  in  such  torrents, 
that  Legs,  unable  to  hold  out  any  longer,  wended 
his  way  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  hotel. 

"  No  use  to  worry,"  consoled  the  landlord. 
"  You  might  'a  knowed  he  wouldn't  try  to  get 
back  a  evenin'  like  this.  If  he  didn't  get  spilled 
on  his  way  over  he's  high  and  dry  in  the  light- 
house. I'll  take  care  of  you,  and  won't  let  Buf- 
falo Dare  get  your  scalp. " 

Legs,  irritated  by  the  last  part  of  this  speech, 
and  alarmed  by  the  first,  gazed  disconsolately 
out  of  the  window  at  the  driving  rain  and  listened 
with  sinking  heart  to  the  dismal  howling  of  the 
wind.  What  with  the  lifeboat  mystery  on  his 
mind,  the  appearance  of  the  madman  and  his  own 
loneliness,  he  had  never  felt  quite  so  miserable 
before  in  all  his  days. 


CHAPTER  VH 

THE    BIRD    HAD    FLOWN 

Scarcely  had  Hardy,  Turner,  and  Legs  left  the 
premises  that  eventful  morning  when  Jimmy 
opened  his  eyes,  blinked  them  in  the  sun's  rays, 
and,  sitting  up  between  the  sheets,  looked  about 
him.  There  lay  Cat  on  his  back,  mouth  open, 
still  far  away  in  dreamland.  Legs's  cot,  on  the 
other  hand,  displayed  the  narrow  mould  of  his 
form,  but  nothing  more  substantial.  Except  for 
Miller's  heavy  breathing,  an  uncanny  silence 
pervaded  the  house. 

"  Eh,  Sleeping  Beauty,"  yelled  the  tormentor, 
partly  from  that  boy  instinct  for  raising  the 
roost  when  not  asleep  one's  self.  "  You  blue- 
eyed  Catfish,  wake  up  there,  hear  me?  " 

To  lend  force  to  his  command  he  hurled  his 
pillow  with  deliberate  aim  at  the  sleeper.  Either 
the  yell  or  the  pillow  or  both  had  the  effect. 
Cat's  eyes  popped  open  on  the  instant. 

11  Confound  you,  Jimmy  Todd,  what'd  you 
wake  me  up  for  when  I  was  right  that  second 
102 


At  Cape  Peril  103 

digging  my  fingers  down  in  one  of  old  Black- 
beard's  chests  and  raking  out  gold  by  the  hand- 
ful? "  he  demanded  as  soon  as  he  took  in  the 
situation.  "I'd  been  a  millionaire  in  just  'bout 
two  more  minutes." 

"  Maybe  that's  what  that  slick  Legs  is  up  to, 
without  dreaming,"  suggested  the  other.  "  Look! 
He's  flew  the  coop." 

Cat  surveyed  Legs's  vacant  bunk,  bounced 
from  his  own  bed,  and  rushed  to  take  a  look  at 
the  ocean  from  the  window. 

"  Don't  see  him  in,"  announced  the  observer. 
"  But  golly,  Jimmy,  Tom  Hardy's  sunball  looks 
red  and  funny,  and  the  sea's  got  some  nifty  jell 
to  her  today.  I  b'lieve  old  Buffum's  barometer's 
working.  We'll  get  some  surf  today,  boy,  sure!  " 

The  aid  was  tepid  and  soft,  with  a  brisk  breeze 
blowing.  The  waves  that  the  day  before  had 
washed  the  beach  languidly  and  rolled  back  just 
as  lazily,  this  morning  were  splashing  away  in 
hurly-burly  fashion. 

"  We  sure  will,"  agreed  Jimmy,  planting  him- 
self by  his  companion.  "  But  where  you  s'pose 
Legs  is.  Can't  be  more'n  seven  o'clock.  Not 
near  breakfast  time  yet.  Let's  raise  the  roof." 


104  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

The  speaker  ran  to  the  door*  and  yelled 
"  Legs!  "  at  the  top  of  his  lungs.  No  answer. 

Mystified,  the  two  barefooted  boys  pattered 
along  the  hall,  peeping  into  Hardy's  room  and 
into  Turner's  in  succession.  Both  were  empty. 

"  Hardy!  "  they  both  shouted  together  as 
loudly  as  they  could  bawl. 

Dead  silence. 

"  Turner,  ah,  Turner!  "  they  shrilled.  Same 
result. 

"  What  you  reckon 's  happened?  "  speculated 
Cat,  inferring  some  pleasure  jaunt  of  which  he 
and  Jimmy  were  being  cheated.  "  Come  on! 
Let's  go  down  and  see!  " 

Back  to  their  rooms  they  darted,  slipped  on 
their  shoes,  and  adding  nothing  else  to  their 
sleeping  costume,  bounded  down  the  stairway. 

"  Not  a  soul  in  sight  but  that  old  one-eyed 
witch.  Scat!  "  cried  Jimmy,  gazing  about  and 
then  striding  from  one  window  to  another. 

At  the  commotion,  Luke  cropped  up  from  the 
pantry. 

"  Where  in  the  mischief  are  the  others?  " 
demanded  Cat. 

"  I   dunno   where   they   gone,"   returned    the 


At  Cape  Peril  105 

mulatto.  "  Heard  Turner  buzzin'  'round  with 
that  there  wireless  o'  his'n  jus'  now,  and  then 
he  come  in  and  got  Hardy  and  say  sumpin',  and 
then  I  see  Hardy  and  Legs  runnin'  round  like 
chicken  with  their  heads  cut  off,  and  then  they 
grab  some  cold  vittles  from  the  pantry,  and  bus' 
out  the  do',  and,  last  I  seed  of  'em,  all  three  was 
a-makin'  tracks  out  to-wards  that  there  airy- 
plane  gayraje.  Look  like  they  done  gone  crazy." 

The  information  added  fuel  to  the  lads'  burn- 
ing curiosity.  "  Come  on,  come  on,  Jimmy,  don't 
let  'em  put  one  like  that  over  on  us,"  Cat 
exhorted,  starting  for  the  entrance. 

"  I'm  with  you,"  shouted  Jimmy. 

And  the  two  scantily  attired  forms  shot  out 
of  the  door,  sprang  down  the  steps,  rounded  the 
house,  and  ploughed  along  at  their  best  speed 
over  the  sandy  pathway. 

From  the  top  of  one  of  the  dunes,  the  sight 
that  greeted  their  eyes  spurred  them  on  to  new 
exertion.  There  in  the  distance  stood  the  Wind- 
jammer ready  for  a  flight.  Hardy  and  Legs  were 
'climbing  to  their  seats  while  Turner  appeared 
to  be  making  ready  to  give  them  a  send-off. 

"  Look,      Jimmy,      look!  "      sputtered      Cat. 


106  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  That's  what  I  call  a  low-down,  scurvy  trick." 

"  Blamed  if  it  ain't,"  panted  Jimmy,  who  had 
used  up  all  his  wind  in  his  effort  to  keep  on  the 
heels  of  the  flying  Cat. 

The  latter  now  made  a  still  more  strenuous 
spurt,  but,  despite  the  utmost  exertion  of  both 
the  lads,  they  struggled  up,  breathless  and  pant- 
ing, to  Turner's  side,  only  to  see  the  aircraft  a 
hundred  feet  above  their  reach  and  mounting 
every  second. 

A  wave  of  the  hand  from  the  triumphant  pas- 
senger added  to  their  cup  of  bitterness,  as  did 
also  a  playful  grin  with  which  the  Tarheel 
greeted  them. 

"  Grab  'em,  boys,  grab  'em,"  Turner  joked 
grimly.  "  How  'bout  some  salt  to  sprinkle  on 
the  bird's  tailt  " 

"  What's  this  mean?  "  demanded  Cat  as  soon 
as  he  could  get  his  wind,  keeping  his  eye  glued 
fast  on  the  ever-mounting  flyer. 

Along  with  a  choice  spice  of  kidding  from  the 
solemn-looking  Turner,  the  reason  for  the  abrupt 
departure  came  out  bit  by  bit. 

"  I  don't  see  what  he  took  Legs  for,"  snarled 
Jimmy.  "  Might  have  given  us  a  show." 


At  Cape  Peril  107 

"  Don't  worry,  he  ain't  goin'  far,"  was  the 
consolation.  "  Hardy's  goin'  to  stick  some 
stamps  on  him  and  send  him  back  by  parcel  post. 
I  think  he  took  him  because  he's  a  math, 
shark." 

"  Oh,  golly,  Jimmy,  why  couldn't  we  squeeze 
Whiskers  for  a  brainful?  "  said  Cat  ruefully. 
"  First  time  I  knew  that  stuff  would  get  you 
where  you  could  have  some  fun." 

"  Say,  boys,  stop  lookin'  up  there  for  star- 
fish," drawled  Turner,  after  the  crestfallen  pair 
had  watched  the  bird  dwindle  and  vanish  in  the 
distance.  "  It's  an  ill  wind  that  doesn't  blow 
somebody  good.  How  would  you  two  persimmon- 
mouths  like  to  take  a  little  skim  over  the  briny 
in  my  hydro  after  breakfast!  " 

The  dismal  faces  bloomed  in  a  twinkling.  The 
news  was  like  a  refreshing  shower  to  two  wilted 
strawberries. 

"  Oh,  Jimmy,"  yelled  Cat,  dancing  around 
with  his  companion  in  a  frenzy  of  enthusiasm. 
"  Old  Legs  can  have  his  lift.  We're  the  lucky 
guys,  I'll  say." 

"  And  we'll  anchor  the  flying  ship  over  there 


108  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

by  the  fish-nets,  and  do  a  little  angling,"  further 
promised  the  Tarheel. 

A  shout  of  approval  greeted  the  suggestion. 

"  Might  hook  a  reed  bird  or  two,"  added 
Turner. 

11  Reed  bird!  "  echoed  Jimmy. 

"  Sure,  that's  what  we  call  red  herring  down 
home." 

The  lads  were  all  eyes,  ears  and  expectation; 
and,  with  full-grown  appetites,  trudged  on  with 
their  leader  back  towards  Seagulls'  Nest. 

"  Hope  there's  more  game  in  the  ocean  than 
there  is  outside,"  remarked  Jimmy,  looking 
down  the  deserted  beach  when  the  three  were 
crossing  the  sand  hills.  "  Gosh!  I'd  like  to 
hunt  and  fish  up  in  the  Arctic  where  the  water 
and  the  shore  swarms  with  polar  bears  and  sea- 
birds  and  the  seals  and  penguins.  Remember 
those  polar  travelogues,  Cat!  What  got  my  eye 
was  the  way  those  penguins  flopped  along  just 
like  this.  Look!  Darn  if  they  didn't  have  the 
Charlie  Chaplin  shuffle  to  a  finish." 

At  this  point,  Jimmy  paused  to  give  a  piece 
of  mimicry  that  drew  a  roar  from  Cat  and  a 
chuckle  from  Turner. 


At  Cape  Peril  109 

"  He  and  you  must  have  taught  'em,"  joked 
Cat,  as  the  clown's  legs  sprang  back  to  the  per- 
pendicular. *'  But,  say,  don't  forget  about 
whales  when  you  are  talking  about  big  game. 
They  tell  me  some  little  ones  have  been  washed 
up  on  the  beach  down  this  far." 

"  Some  winters  they  seem  to  get  the  wander- 
lust," drawled  Turner.  "  One  was  washed  up 
at  Virginia  Beach  a  couple  of  years  ago,  and  I 
believe  that  wasn't  the  first  they'd  found." 

Suddenly  an  idea,  a  bright  one,  occurred  to 
Jimmy. 

11  Don't  reckon  they  laid  any  eggs  around 
here,  do  you?  A  whale's  egg  must  be  a 
whopper." 

The  Tarheel's  face  spread  and  he  broke  into 
a  low  cackle.  Cat  caught  the  cue  on  the  instant. 

11  Don't  you  know,  bonehead,  that  whales  don't 
lay  eggs,"  he  struck  in,  looking  wondrous  wise. 

"  They  don't!  "  exclaimed  Jimmy,  only  half 
induced  to  believe  the  fact. 

11  They  produce  snarks,"  mildly  observed 
Turner,  breaking  into  a  full-sized  grin. 

"  I'll  say,  Jimmy,"  hooted  Cat,  "  you  just 
pulled  a  whale  bone." 


110  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  That's  right,  grin  your  silly  head  off," 
retorted  Jimmy,  in  no  pleasant  humor;  "  but 
talking  of  burying,  that  gibe  needs  a  first  class 
funeral,  with  mourners  blubbering." 

"  Don't  know  so  much  about  that,"  objected 
Cat,  with  his  grinniest  grin.  "  If  I  don't  tell 
this  on  you  when  I  get  back,  my  name's  not  Cat 
Miller." 

"  I  dare  you,"  threatened  Jimmy  fiercely. 

"  Dare  some  more!  " 

"  I  double-dare  you,"  shot  back  Jimmy,  and, 
after  these  words,  the  speaker  proceeded  to  cup 
his  hands  and  whisper  in  Cat's  ear. 

Whatever  it  was,  it  had  a  magical  effect. 

"  I  resign,"  said  Cat  meekly,  and  added  coax- 
ingly,  "  Say,  for  Pete's  sake,  don't  let  that  get 
out  or  I'm  ruined.  I'll  can  the  whale's  egg, 
swear  I  will." 

The  matter  being  thus  adjusted,  much  to 
Turner's  amusement,  the  lads  shed  their  gar- 
ments, dashed  into  the  ocean  for  a  dip,  and  were 
dressed  and  heavily  engaged  at  breakfast  fifteen 
minutes  later. 

"  Needn't  hurry  so,"  admonished  Turner.  "  I 
ain't  goin'  for  an  hour  after  grubbin',  anyway." 


At  Cape  Peril  111 

And,  in  spite  of  all  their  urging,  he  wouldn't. 

"  To  kill  time,  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  though," 
he  conceded  when  all  were  standing  on  the  porch 
after  the  meal  was  finished.  * '  I  '11  try  you  with  a 
little  pistol  practice,  that's  what  I'll  do." 

This  was  reasonably  consoling.  So,  fetching 
his  automatic  and  a  box  of  shells  and  adding  to 
his  equipment  a  dozen  apples  from  the  store- 
room, he  issued  out  on  the  lawn,  where  the 
eager  scouts  were  awaiting  him. 

Placing  one  of  the  smaller  apples  on  a  con- 
venient post  and  taking  his  stand  at  fifty  paces 
distance  he  squinted  an  eye,  aimed,  and  in  three 
shots  had  plugged  the  target  into  fragments. 

Loud  applause  from  the  two  spectators  greeted 
this  feat. 

"  How  did  you  get  to  be  such  a  crack  shot?  " 
Cat  wanted  to  know. 

"  You  see  it  was  this  way,"  confided  the  Tar- 
heel. "  Down  home  on  the  Pasquotank  the  mus- 
skeeters  grow  so  almighty  big  and  get  so  mon- 
strous vicious  I  had  to  lay  in  bed  of  a  night  and 
have  my  fun  wingin'  'em  with  a  pistol.  They 
were  the  size  of  Scuppernong  grapes,  and  that's 
no  fairy  tale." 


112  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"Ha!    ha!  "  said  Cat  and  Jimmy  echoed. 

"  Now,  you,  William  Tell,"  said  the  joker, 
handing  the  pistol  to  the  little  chap,  after  a  fresh 
apple  had  been  placed  in  position.  ' '  Your  shot !  ' ' 

The  short  fellow  cocked  his  eye,  fired,  missed 
his  goal  in  all  three  attempts,  but  created  con- 
siderable stir  in  a  sand  bank  beyond.  Miller 
followed,  and,  after  two  misses,  nicked  his  apple. 
He  beamed  with  satisfaction,  swelled  visibly  and 
crowed  over  his  companion. 

Before  an  hour's  practice  was  over,  however, 
both  the  lads,  though  they  had  not  quite  attained 
the  mosquito-winging  stage,  had  improved  tre- 
mendously, and  their  instructor,  seemingly 
greatly  gratified  with  his  pupils,  suggested  get- 
ting the  tackle  together  and  making  for  the 
seaplane. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PLUGGING    A    MAN-EATEB 

"I  don't  like  this  line-fishing,"  asserted 
Turner  as  he  prowled  around  the  store-room. 
"  I've  been  used  to  fishing  with  a  rod  and  reel 
on  the  Pasquotank  and  I  can't  get  over  the 
habit." 

No  rod  was  in  sight,  however,  but  he  suddenly 
hit  on  the  expedient  of  taking  a  pole  with  a 
hook  in  the  end,  used  by  Luke  for  some  domestic 
purpose. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  reel,"  the  Tarheel  con- 
tinued, "  but  I'll  hitch  my  line  on  the  end  of 
this,  like  Simple  Simon,  and  see  how  the  fish 
take  to  new  inventions." 

Soon  the  three,  equipped  for  their  sport,  pro- 
ceeded to  Lake  Herring,  and  filed  out  on  the 
narrow  plank  bridge  to  the  nest  of  the  hydro- 
plane. As  Turner  proceeded  to  make  all  needful 
preparations  for  the  flight,  the  two  scouts, 
although  familiar  with  the  seaplanes  that  soared 
over  Hampton  Roads,  found  novel  points  of 

113 


114  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

interest  in  the  improved  prow  and  high  curved 
tail  of  this  biplane  flying  boat. 

The  tank  filled  and  fishing  tackle  stowed,  the 
pilot  nimbly  climbed  to  his  seat,  the  lads  scram- 
bled to  theirs  just  behind,  the  propeller  set  to 
threshing,  and  off  went  the  bird  skimming  the 
tranquil  waters  for  a  hundred  feet,  then  rose 
upon  the  air  like  some  magic  creature  of  Eastern 
fable.  Over  the  lake  she  soared,  left  the  sand 
bar  behind,  and  sped  along  far  above  the 
combers. 

For  twenty  minutes,  that  seemed  but  one  to 
the  enraptured  scouts,  she  circled  over  the  deep; 
then  planed  gracefully  till  she  tipped  the  water; 
spanked  along  over  the  waves  until  she  lost  her 
momentum,  and  was  brought  to  a  halt  as  the 
pilot  cast  anchor  at  a  point  no  great  distance 
from  the  spot  where  the  fishnets  had  been  set 
for  their  prey. 

Not  many  minutes  later  Turner,  with  a  line 
attached  to  the  end  of  his  hook-tipped  pole,  was 
manipulating  this  clumsy  instrument  more  as  a 
joke  than  with  any  great  expectation  of  results. 
Jimmy,  sitting  cross-legged  on  the  starboard 
side  of  the  boat,  was  line-fishing,  and  had  already 
landed  two  mullets  and  a  small  alewife.  On  the 


At  Cape  Peril  115 

other  side  Cat,  shoes  off,  with  his  feet  dangling, 
was  engaged  in  the  more  thrilling  and  productive 
pastime  of  crabbing.  The  net  that  lay  beside  him 
was  frequently  called  into  play  to  scoop  in  some 
unwary  shellfish  toled  to  the  surface  by  the 
cautiously  raised  piece  of  meat  suspended  from 
a  line.  The  victims,  squirming  and  clawing, 
were  dumped  into  the  cockpit  to  create  a  small 
pandemonium  about  the  toes  of  the  long-suffer- 
ing pilot. 

Suddenly,  this  peaceful  scene  was  shattered 
by  a  wild  yell  from  Miller,  who  fell  back,  feet 
in  air,  as  if  propelled  by  some  powerful  spring, 
and  rolled  against  Jimmy.  The  latter,  struggling 
to  his  feet,  gazed  upon  a  pallid  face  and  two 
staring,  terror-stricken  eyes.  Turner,  startled 
from  his  own  pursuit,  whirled  about,  and  as  his 
glance  passed  from  the  terrified  boy  to  the 
water  in  search  of  the  source  of  the  commotion, 
his  eyes  fell  upon  a  pale  bluish  torpedo-shaped 
body  of  monster  proportions,  in  the  act  of  rolling 
to  one  side,  exhibiting,  as  it  did  so,  a  gleaming 
white  belly  and,  below  the  muzzle,  a  hideous 
many-toothed  mouth  agape  in  preparation  for 
snapping  the  meat  bait. 


116  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  Good  heaven!  "  almost  shrieked  the  ordi- 
narily stolid  pilot.  "  A  shark,  it's" a  shark!  " 

Jimmy,  after  scrambling  to  his  feet,  had 
dragged  up  the  terrified  Cat,  and  the  two,  hug- 
ging one  another  and  shuddering,  were  staring 
down  at  the  object  of  their  terror. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  hold  on!  Don't  slip, 
your  life  depends  on  it,"  cried  Turner  as  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  he  vaulted  from  the 
cockpit,  dragging  the  pole  out  after  him.  Sup- 
porting himself  by  the  framework  of  the  well 
with  one  hand,  he  thrust  the  hooked  end  of  the 
pole  with  unerring  aim  with  the  other  straight 
into  the  gaping  maw  of  the  monster  and,  with  a 
powerful  twist  of  the  wrist,  jabbed  and  dug  the 
iron  in  behind  the  triple  teeth  of  his  prey. 
Instantly  the  shark  began  to  writhe  and  squirm 
and  flip  his  huge  tail  so  convulsively  that  the 
airship  was  shaken  from  stem  to  stern.  For  the 
man,  it  was  question  of  releasing  the  pole  in  a 
very  few  seconds  or  being  dragged  overboard. 

"  Cat  —  Jimmy!  "  he  yelled,  "  my  pistol  here 
—  belt  —  shoot  —  head  or  belly  —  quick  — 
quick!" 

The  two  lads,  forgetting  their  own  plight  in 


At  Cape  Peril  117 

the  imminent  peril  that  seemed  to  confront 
Turner,  made  a  grab  for  the  weapon  at  the 
same  time,  but  Miller  was  the  first  to  close  his 
hand  over  the  butt,  snatching  the  weapon  from 
the  holster. 

By  a  supreme  effort,  the  man  still  clutched  the 
pole,  his  teeth  clenched  and  with  a  desperate 
look  on  his  tense  face. 

"Shoot  —  shoot!"  he  commanded. 

Cat's  form  became  rigid,  he  thrust  his  arm 
downward,  tightened  a  finger  on  the  trigger, 
and  as  a  swelling  wave  brought  the  great  fish  a 
foot  closer,  he  plumped  shell  after  shell  at  his 
victim.  The  first  steel  plopped  the  water,  but 
the  rest  found  their  marks  in  the  head  and 
throat.  After  several  tremendous  churning  flips 
and  convulsions,  the  creature  rose  and  fell  an 
inert  mass  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 

Turner,  heaving  a  sigh  from  the  bottom  of  his 
chest,  released  his  hold  on  the  pole  and  staggered 
back  against  the  cockpit. 

"  Thank  God!  "  he  gasped  as  every  muscle 
relaxed  from  the  tremendous  tension.  "  That 
was  a  man's  shot!  Cat,  boy,  it  gives  me  the 
shivers  all  over  even  now  to  think  of  what  might 


118  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

have  happened  to  you  in  another  minute.  A 
shark,  a  blue  shark,  not  the  worst  kind,  thank 
heaven,  but  devil  enough!  " 

He  passed  the  back  of  his  arm  over  his  fore- 
head to  wipe  away  the  sweat  that  stood  in  great 
beads. 

Cat  and  Jimmy,  still  shuddering,  were  unable 
to  take  their  gaze  from  the  great,  grinning,  now 
bloody,  mouth  of  the  floating  monster,  rising 
and  falling  with  the  waves  and  thudding  against 
the  boat  side. 

"  Gosh!  "  exclaimed  Cat  shakily,  his  heart  still 
pounding.  "  Seven  feet  long  if  he's  an  inch." 
And  then  his  invincible  turn  for  jesting  came 
upon  him.  "  Plenty  of  room  for  you  inside, 
Jimmy,"  he  added  with  a  forced  grin. 

The  boy  stooped  to  pick  up  the  pistol  that  had 
slipped  from  his  hand  and  was  on  the  point  of 
rolling  overboard. 

"  You  did  it,"  admitted  Jimmy.  "  You  para- 
lyzed him,  believe  me,  you  sure  did  paralyze 
him." 

"  Back  to  your  seats,"  directed  Turner,  "  they 
go  in  schools.  May  be  some  more  around,  and 
I  don't  think  I  care  to  tackle  another  just  now." 


At  Cape  Peril  119 

"  Can't  we  land  him?  "  asked  Cat,  with  ris- 
ing bravado,  as  pride  in  his  feat  began  to  assert 
itself. 

"  I'll  attend  to  the  landing  part,"  retorted 
Turner,  pushing  the  lads  towards  the  cockpit. 
"  Get  back  and  stop  talking." 

The  mysterious  commotion  on  the  floating 
hydro  had  already  created  a  tremendous  flutter 
among  the  fishermen,  and  at  the  climax  of  the 
pistol  shots  one  boat  had  put  out  and  was 
swiftly  nearing  the  scene  of  the  mystery. 

"  It's  a  shark,"  shouted  Turner  to  the  oncom- 
ing rowers. 

Instantly  the  men  rested  on  their  oars. 

"  Dead?  "  inquired  one  excitedly. 

"  As  he  ever  will  be!  "  bawled  Turner. 

"  Gosh!  " 

"  Ain't  any  more  o'  them  things  prowlin' 
around,  is  there?  "  the  man  was  anxious  to  know. 

"  No,"  yelled  Turner,  "  come  on.  Land  him 
for  us  and  it  means  ten  dollars  for  you." 

The  offer  of  money  had  a  magnetic  effect.  The 
man  took  his  seat  once  more,  and  all  pulled  for 
the  plane  with  a  will,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout 
as  they  did  so.  Drawing  up  alongside,  the  crew, 


120  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

under  directions  of  the  Tarheel,  .-secured  the 
shark  in  tow  by  means  of  an  anchor  barb 
attached  to  a  rope,  and  made  ready  to  return  to 
shore. 

"  First  time  I  ever  heard  tell  of  goin'  fishin' 
with  a  pistol,"  declared  the  skipper  after  hear- 
ing a  full  account  of  the  episode.  "  You  folks 
has  sho'  learned  me  a  new  one." 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  Turner  as  the  scouts 
watched  the  boat  pull  away  with  their  huge  prize 
in  tow,  "  let's  get  out  of  here  in  a  jiffy.  The 
wind's  rising,  so  we'll  beat  it.  Believe  I've  got 
a  steady  enough  hand  for  the  joy-rod  by  this 
time." 

"  Let  her  clip,"  approved  the  triumphant 
Cat,  and  off  went  the  plane.  She  rose,  breast- 
ing the  wind,  circled  gracefully,  and  a  few  min- 
utes later  was  back  at  her  starting  point; 

"  Poor  old  Legs,"  Cat  grieved  as  fhe  three 
made  their  way  back  to  headquarters.  "  Just 
think,  he's  trying  to  kill  time  on  that  lonesome 
Knott's  Island,  while  we've  pulled  off  the  big- 
gest show  ever  seen  on  this  old  coast.  But, 
golly,  if  his  props  had  been  hanging  where  mine 
were,  that  brute  certainly  would  have  put  a 


At  Cape  Peril  121 

crimp  in  him.  On  the  other  hand,  Jimmy's  are 
so  short  the  whale  wouldn't  have  noticed  them." 

"  That's  all  right,"  retorted  Jimmy,  "  you 
notice  the  shortest  fellows  always  dance  with 
the  tallest  girls." 

"Ain't  girls  soft!"  propounded  Cat. 

"  I  don't  know,  are  they?  "  asked  Jimmy  as 
one  appealing  to  authority. 

"  This  is  strictly  a  stag  party,"  put  in  Turner. 
"  No  discussing  the  softer  sex  on  a  shark  hunt. 
I  wonder  how  Hardy  is  making  it,"  he  suddenly 
changed  the  subject.  "  I  believe  there's  a  blow 
coming  up." 

"  S'pose  he  took  Legs  all  the  way?  "  Jimmy 
wanted  to  know. 

"  He's  got  a  little  sense.  Hatton's  safe  in 
the  pickle  shop  on  Knott's  Island.  But  I'm 
afraid  Hardy  may  have  had  to  land  somewhere 
short  of  Kitty  Hawk." 

"  Can't  a  plane  stand  a  pretty  high  wind!  " 
asked  Cat. 

"  In  France,  I've  seen  'em  in  a  small-sized 
hurricane,"  answered  Turner  with  a  laugh, 
"  but  that  was  war,  and  you  might  as  well  take 
chances  one  way  as  another.  But,  in  peace 


122  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

times,  most  folks  look  out  for  theiu  own  skins. 
Fact  is,  though,  to  an  experienced  pilot,  there's 
not  much  danger  if  the  velocity  of  the  wind 
isn't  greater  than  the  speed  of  the  motor. " 

When  the  party  reached  the  house,  Luke 
came  out  with  the  news  that  the  coast  guard,  a 
short  time  before,  had  brought  the  report  of  the 
oncoming  gale.  While  Turner  made  a  rush  for 
his  wireless,  the  lads  stopped  to  recount  to  their 
audience  of  one  of  the  blood-curdling  incident 
through  which  they  had  just  passed. 

"  Got  a  message,"  announced  Turner  half  an 
hour  later.  "  Hardy  hasn't  been  heard  from  yet, 
but  there's  nothing  strange  about  that,  as  he 
hasn't  had  time  to  get  to  Kitty  Hawk  with  the 
stops  he  had  to  make."  His  tone  was  a  trifle 
disturbed.  "  There's  something  else,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  Hatton's  father's  yacht  is  coming  up 
the  coast  and  trying  to  reach  Hampton  Roads 
ahead  of  the  gale.  He  won't  be  able  to  stop 
anywhere.  From  the  latitude  given  when  the 
yacht  wirelessed,  she  ought  to  pass  us  by  early 
this  evening." 

For  a  moment  the  lads'  faces  fell  as  the  yacht 
trip  they  had  counted  on  went  up  in  smoke. 


At  Cape  Peril  123 

"  Gee !  I  thought  it  was  in  Cuba,  and  wouldn't 
be  up  for  four  days.  That's  what  Legs  told  us," 
said  Cat. 

"  That's  what  I  don't  understand,"  returned 
Turner,  "  Something  important  must  have  hur- 
ried him.  But  I'm  telling  you  all  I  could  get." 

"  Well,  if  he  had  stopped,"  remarked  Jimmy, 
in  a  tone  of  some  relief,  "  he  wouldn't  have 
found  Legs  around  and  I  bet  you  there 'd  been 
some  hot  times  raised." 

"  That's  so,"  conceded  Turner.  "  I  reckon  it's 
just  as  well  he  shouldn't  know  about  that  wild 
goose  chase.  Doggone  it!  I  wish  Hardy  hadn't 
been  fool  enough  to  take  this  trip." 

"  Don't  think  there's  really  any  danger,  do 
you?  "  demanded  Jimmy  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  no!  "  explained  Turner.  "  No  more 
danger  than  we're  in  right  now." 

He  had  changed  his  tone  directly  he  noticed 
the  effect  his  remark  had  had  on  the  boys,  and 
then,  to  divert  any  more  conjectures,  hastened 
to  suggest  a  trip  over  to  the  fishing  settlement 
to  inspect  their  prize.  Instantly,  shark  filled 
every  corner  of  the  lads'  minds  and  off  started 
the  three. 


124  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"Well,  sharks  do  lay  eggs  —  at'least,  some 
do  —  a  couple  at  a  time,"  informed  Turner. 

"  I  know,"  Cat  struck  in,  "  those  black  things 
with  points  to  'em  you  pick  up  on  the  beach." 

"  They're  the  cases,  not  the  eggs,"  corrected 
the  Tarheel. 

"  Somebody  else's  dome  is  solid  ivory," 
Jimmy  thrust  at  Cat.  For  answer  Miller  re- 
turned a  comical  leer. 

"  Those  are  the  empty  cases,"  proceeded 
Turner.  "  The  young  sharks,  when  hatched, 
hreak  through  the  case  at  the  weakest  place. 
Some  folks  call  those  black  pill-boxes  *  mer- 
maids' purses.'  I  reckon,  because  the  fishy  ladies 
keep  their  powder  puffs  and  beauty  jiggers  in 
'em,"  he  added,  with  a  knowing  chuckle.  "  But, 
speakin'  of  sharks,  there  are  other  fish  kin  to 
'em  without  havin'  their  shape  and  bad  habits. 
The  dogfish  infestin'  these  waters  is  one  of 
'em." 

"  That's  where  you  have  to  beat  it,  Cat," 
flashed  Jimmy. 

"  I'm  the  burr  kind  of  cat,"  objected  Miller, 
"  the  kind  that  lights  on  a  dog's  back  and  buries 
in.  You  can't  shake  this  Cat  off,  sonny." 


At  Cape  Peril  125 

"  The  only  Simon-pure,  pious,  kind-hearted, 
law-abiding,  Sunday-school  shark  I  ever  heard 
of,"  Turner  went  on,  "  was  one  I  was  reading 
about  the  other  day,  a  freak  variety,  white  all 
over.  He  was  called  the  Pilot  shark  of  New 
Zealand.  His  parlor  trick  was  to  guide  every 
ship  through  a  narrow,  dangerous  pass  between 
the  rocks  by  leaping,  diving  and  cutting  up 
capers  in  front  of  the  bow  till  the  craft  got  to 
safety.  The  sailors  swore  they  couldn't  bribe 
him  from  his  path  of  duty  by  chuckin*  meat  to" 
him.  Even  Mrs.  Shark  and  the  little  Sharkeys 
couldn't  entice  him  till  he  had  finished  his  job." 

"  You  believe  that?  "  demanded  Cat  skeptic- 
ally. 

"  I  saw  it  in  a  paper,"  declared  Turner. 
"  'Nuf  said." 


CHAPTER  IX 

WARNINGS    IN    THE    AIB 

When  Turner  and  the  boys  reached  the  beach 
skirting  the  fishing  settlement,  a  group  of  about 
twenty  men  were  inspecting  the  booty  stretched 
out  on  the  sand.  Among  the  spectators  stood 
the  bandy-legged  Cap'n  Buffum,  who,  getting 
wind  of  the  adventure,  had  waddled  down  to 
gloat  over  the  prize  with  his  own  eyes. 

Loud  plaudits  greeted  the  arrival  of  the 
intrepid  heroes.  Cat  in  particular  was  the 
object  of  attention,  and,  undtr  the  admiration, 
swelled  like  a  pouter  pigeon.  It  was  the  proud- 
est moment  of  the  near  six  thousand  days  of  his 
eventful  life. 

11  Here's  my  hand  to  all  of  ye,"  said  Buffum, 
with  heartfelt  pleasure,  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word.  "  I  never  had  no  use  for  them  flyin'  ships 
befo',  a-droppin'  bombs  and  scrap  iron  to  mess 
up  good  seaworthy  vessels,  but  if  they  kin  light 
and  scavenger  the  ocean  o'  varmints  like  these 

126 


At  Cape  Peril  127 

hyuh,  I'll  vote  for  'em  good  and  hearty.  But 
where's  Hardy  and  that  leggy  lad?  " 

Turner  proceeded  to  explain  the  occasion  of 
their  absence. 

"  Them  lighthouse  superintendents  is  cracked 
to  be  sendin'  men  kitin'  aroun'  in  the  air,  with 
a  storm  dead-ahead.  They  don't  git  Bill  Buffum 
a-sailin'  hither  and  thither.  I  was  give  my  light- 
house job  to  set,  and  set  like  hardtack  I  will 
aginst  all  the  flyin'  powers  in  creation." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  said  Turner.  "  I  got  a 
wireless  that  Commodore  Hatton's  yacht  is  due 
to  pass  sometime  this  evening.  He's  young 
Hatton's  father.  Keep  your  light  burning." 

"  I'll  have  it  extry  bright,"  promised  the  ex- 
mariner,  "  but  if  I  had  my  hands  on  them  there 
wires  I'd  'a  tol'  him  to  snug  in  some  handy 
port,  for,  take  a  Jack  tar's  word  for  it,  it'll  be 
bio  win'  great  guns  and  loaded  ones,  with  Old 
Nick  servin'  'em,  by  sundown." 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  group  of  brawny 
fishermen  gathered  about  the  shark,  stood  a  man 
who  seemingly  was  not  of  the  company,  though 
he  wore  a  longshoreman's  oilskin  coat  reaching 
nearly  to  the  heels  of  his  rubber  boots,  while  a 


128  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

hat  of  the  same  material  covered  his  head  and 
shadowed  the  upper  part  of  his  face.  A  bushy 
black  beard  was  most  conspicuously  in  evidence. 

As  Buffum  and  Turner  had  begun  to  talk,  he 
had  drawn  closer  to  the  two,  but  now  as  Buffum 
suddenly  looked  sharply  about,  the  stranger 
whirled  around,  sauntered  away  and  appeared 
to  be  idly  inspecting  the  ocean. 

"  Who's  that  thar  felluhf  "  asked  the  light- 
house keeper  of  one  of  the  fishermen,  pointing 
at  the  same  time  at  the  intruder. 

"  I  ain't  seen  him  befo',"  declared  the  one 
addressed,  "  He  tol'  some  of  the  folks  at  the 
settlement  jus*  now  that  he  come  from  Belle 
Haven  and  was  waiting  for  the  mail  carrier  to 
take  him  to  Millford." 

"  He  don't  look  like  no  genuwine  fisherman 
to  me,"  asserted  Buffum,  staring  keenly  after 
the  now  retreating  figure. 

"  Nor  me  neither,"  agreed  the  other.  "Ain't 
set  up  right." 

"  Hope  that  'ere  yacht  will  keep  well  out  at 
sea,"  continued  the  Cap'n,  turning  to  Turner 
once  more.  "  The  Cape  Peril  shoals  ain't  got  no 
respect  for  Commodores  or  for  Admirals  either. 


At  Cape  Peril  129 

They  don't  salute  nobody  as  I  ever  heard  of. 
What's  that  'ere  Hatton  Commodore  of  f  " 

Turner  explained  that  it  was  merely  a  compli- 
mentary title  conferred  on  the  yacht  owner  by 
his  cronies. 

"  His  handle  come  off'n  the  same  bush  as 
mine  did,"  chuckled  the  old  fellow.  "  If  you've 
ever  blowed  a  whistle  on  the  sea  or  fired  a  pop- 
gun at  a  clay  pigeon  on  land  and  gits  a  few  years 
on  ye,  these  folks  shoots  a  Cap'n  or  a  Gen'ral  at 
ye.  I  knowed  a  man  once  who  was  a  gen'ral  nui- 
sance, and  his  acquaintances  —  he  didn  't  have  no 
friends  —  all  called  him  'Gen'ral.'  It's  the 
same  as  the  police  force.  You  calls  'em  all 
1  officer.'  Thar  ain't  no  more  prives  left  above 
the  sod.  But  Gen'ral  or  Commodore,  I'll  have 
the  light  fer  him.  Let  the  wind  blow  high  or 
low,  the  light's  always  a-burnin';  and  if  they 
come  close  enough  to  the  shoals  to  see  it  and 
don't  go  a-scootin'  off  like  them  water-bugs  that 
slides  on  a  pond,  they're  spilin'  for  trouble,  and 
submarines  ain't  nothin'  to  what  them  shoals 
kin  do  for  'em  when  they  takes  a  notion. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  ye,  mates,"  he  continued, 
addressing  the  whole  group,  "  a  blow  was 


130  Tke  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

comin'T  I  tol'  them  boys,  too.  The  weather 
reports  jus'  aftertells  what  my  feet  has  been 
a-howluT  fer  three  days.  They're  better  than 
any  barometer  I  ever  seed  blowed  in  glass,  and, 
as  I  gets  older,  they  gits  aocurater  and  accu- 
rater." 

During  the  Cap*n's  harangue  the  youngsters 
were  busy,  with  open  penknives,  progging  at  the 
mouth  of  the  monster. 

"What's  them  boys  tryin'  to  do?"  Cap'n 
Buffum  asked  Turner.  "  Torment  a  critter  after 
he's  dead?  That  aint  no  way  to  do." 

"  Want  to  get  some  teeth  as  souvenirs," 
explained  Cat,  looking  up. 

"  1 11  be  bound  you  can't  get  'em  out  that-a- 
way,  sonny,"  asserted  one  of  the  fishermen, 
*'  Come  along  with  me  and  we'll  go  up  the  house 
and  get  some  pinchers  and  a  jackknife." 

Eagerly  the  boys  jumped  up  and  trotted  along 
with  the  man,  and  in  a  short  time  were  back 
with  the  implements  and  proceeded  to  extract 
a  number  of  tusks  from  the  grinning  mouth. 
Some  of  these  they  counted  on  having  mounted 
for  scarf-pins;  others  would  be  distributed 
among  their  intimates. 


At  Cape  Peril  131 

First   one  and   then   another   of  the 
around  began  "  reminiscing." 

"  This  is  the  first  one  I  ever 
parts,"  declared  one  fisherman,  " 
body  or  the  other  tells  me  every  summer  they's 
spied  one.  Say.  them  varmints  can  chaw  up  a 
fish  net  same  as  a  spider  web." 

"And  they  ain't  squeamish  about  their  mess, 
neither,"  quoth  Cap*n  Buffum.  "  In  the  tropics 
I  heard  tefl  of  one  that  was  landed  and  sliced, 
and  in  his  belhr  they  lit  on  a  lady's  workbox, 
with  pins  and  needles  and  scissors  and  all  them 
other  jimcracks  that  women  folks  cuts  up  with."7 

The  crowd  applauded  this  as  a  genuine 
whopper. 

"And  IVe  seen  'em,"  said  another  traveled 
seaman,  "  thirty-seven  feet  long,  and  that's  no 
sea  yarn;  and  they  could  flip  over  a  rowboat 
same  as  I  could  a  splinter." 

"  Beconee'  that  sucker  that  turned  up  on  the 
Jciacy  coast  a  summer  or  two  ago  and  chawed 
up  a  kid  in,  swimmin'f  "  said  a  third. 

"  When  I  was  learnin'  this  hydroplane  game 
on  the  Florida  coast,"  related  Turner,  "  one  of 
my  chums  topped  in  the  sea,  and  by  the  time  we 


132  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

could  row  out  to  where  he  fell,  th^re  wasn't  a 
strand  of  him  left  —  not  a  sliver.  But  those 
folks  down  there  don't  seem  to  mind  'em.  They 
go  on  in  swimming  regardless,  and  when  an 
alarm's  given,  they  hop  on  shore,  and  in  fifteen 
minutes  back  they  go  again." 

The  shark  chit-chat  went  on  a  half  hour  after 
the  boys  had  laid  in  their  supply  of  teeth.  Then 
Turner,  suddenly  remembering  his  wireless,  paid 
the  fishermen  the  promised  ten  dollars,  and 
insisted  on  an  immediate  return  to  Seagulls* 
Nest. 

Cap'n  Buffum  accompanied  the  party  as  far 
as  his  lighthouse.  "  Wind's  still  gettin'  chip- 
per," remarked  the  old  man  as  he  parted  with 
the  others,  "  but  I  b'lieve  that  'ere  hurricane 
will  butt  up  aginst  Cape  Hatteras  and  twis'  out 
to  sea.  We  won't  get  more'n  the  tail  of  it,  but 
like  the  tail  of  one  of  them  there  sharks,  a  hurri- 
cane's tail  kin  lash  up  water  considerable." 

"  Hope  you  are  right  about  the  turning,"  said 
Turner.  "And  don't  forget  to  signal  if  you  see 
the  yacht." 

Then  Turner  and  the  lads  proceeded  to  their 
destination. 


CHAPTER  X 

TREASURE    TROVE 

"  Hang  it!  If  we  can't  go  in  swimming  I'm 
going  out  exploring  the  sand  hills,"  proclaimed 
Cat  after  lunch.  "  What  say,  Jimmy?  " 

"  Somebody  else  has  got  a  say  in  that,"  inter- 
posed the  prudent  Turner.  "  I've  got  to  stay 
here  to  look  out  for  the  wireless.  Besides  that 
shark  skirmish  gave  me  enough  excitement  for 
one  day.  And  there's  one  thing,  sure  as  shoot- 
ing, I'm  not  going  to  let  you  youngsters  go 
a-mooning  over  those  treacherous  sand  hills  by 
yourselves.  First  thing  you  know,  you'd  be 
buried  with  nothing  but  a  leg  sticking  out  to  tell 
the  tale." 

"Great  Gee!"  snorted  Cat.  "Don't  you 
reckon  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves.  We're 
scouts. ' ' 

"  Scouts  be  scat!    You're  not  going  by  your- 
selves.   I  don't  care  if  you're  Pathfinder  and  the 
whole  Lewis  and  Clark  expedition  to  boot." 
133 


134  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

The  sight  of  Luke  through  the  %  open  door 
stimulated  an  idea  in  Jimmy's  mind. 

"  Can't  Luke  go  with  usf  "  the  boy  begged. 

Turner  meditated  a  moment,  reflected  that  he 
would  like  a  few  minutes  to  himself,  interviewed 
the  mahogany-hued  cook,  and  settled  it  that  the 
boys  should  have  him  as  guide  as  soon  as  the 
dishes  were  washed. 

A  little  later  the  three  marched  off,  Jimmy 
provided  with  field  glasses  for  scanning  the 
ocean  and  Cat  in  possession  of  the  house  shovel. 

"  What's  the  idea  of  the  shovel!  "  asked 
Jimmy.  "  Going  to  level  off  the  sand  hills  T  " 

"  Level  the  mischief!  "  retorted  Cat. 
"  Treasure,  boy,  treasure!  Maybe  my  dream 
will  come  true." 

"  Great  Golly,  Cat,  you  talk  like  a  ten  cent 
whistle,"  Jimmy  returned.  "  Why  don't  you 
put  that  back  where  you  got  it?  " 

"  You  grabbed  the  glasses,  didn't  you?  Lemme 
carry  what  I  darn  please." 

"  Take  the  redhot  kitchen  range  if  you  want 
to,"  consented  Jimmy.  "It's  not  my  funeral, 
only  I  hate  to  see  you  act  like  a  darn  fool." 

"  This  sho'  is  a  lonesome  place,"  Luke  com- 


At  Cape  Peril  135 

mented  in  an  injured  tone.  "  It  sho'  will  trick 
you  if  you  stay  here  long  enough.  I'm  gittin' 
kinder  mollygrubby  already.  I  ain't  seen  no 
ladies  for  a  month  and  I  jes'  natchelly  lan- 
guishes for  ladies'  sassiety,  and  I'm  goin'  back 
to  town  befo'  this  summer's  out,  sho'." 

With  this  introductory  remark,  the  mulatto 
proceeded  to  enlighten  the  lads  on  his  charms  as 
a  lady-killer,  and,  with  this  entertainment,  they 
headed  for  the  sand  dunes  that  lay  in  a  direction 
opposite  to  that  of  Cape  Peril.  The  trampers 
had  to  keep  their  way  high  up  on  the  beach,  for 
the  surf,  riding  before  the  heavy  wind,  broke 
tumultuously  on  the  shore,  and  at  times  a  moun- 
tainous breaker  would  collapse  into  a  sweep  of 
bubbling  water  that  ranged  afar  and  sent  the 
three  scampering  to  a  higher  place  of  refuge. 

From  time  to  time  the  lads  would  stop  to 
examine  some  strange  shells  or  stranded  fish, 
and  the  imaginative  Cat,  especially,  was  on  the 
alert  for  a  mysterious  box  or  bottle  that  might 
bring  a  message  from  the  deep,  as  happens  so 
often  in  the  story  books.  Through  the  glasses, 
first  one  and  then  the  other  would  gaze  over  the 


136  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

face  of  the  swelling  waters,  but  nothing  in  the 
semblance  of  a  yacht  rewarded  their  search. 

The  three-mile  walk  covered,  they  reached  the 
remarkable  sand  formations,  the  work  of  the 
winds,  dunes  to  a  height  of  thirty  feet  above  the 
shore  line.  The  boys  climbed  to  the  top  of  one 
of  these  hillocks,  and,  bracing  themselves  against 
the  full  sweep  of  the  wind,  gazed  first  inland 
upon  sandswept  groups  of  scrub  pines,  scraggy 
and  wind-bitten,  a  scene  stark  in  its  desolation, 
and  then,  from  their  coign  of  vantage,  turned 
their  eyes  upon  the  thrilling  grandeur  of  the 
ocean  in  tumult. 

While  Jimmy  was  still  looking  at  the  sea, 
Cat's  eager  glance  roved  over  the  depression 
between  their  observatory  and  the  next  hill.  It 
rested  on  a  strange  looking  whitish  spot  in  the 
valley  and  grabbing  the  glasses  from  his  com- 
panion, he  inspected  the  spot  for  a  moment, 
handed  them  back,  and  without  a  word  of 
explanation  scrambled,  shovel  in  hand,  to  the 
base  of  the  sand  dune. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Cat?  "  yelled 
Jimmy.  "  Gone  batty?  " 

Cat's    only    answer   was    a    desperate    fit    of 


At  Cape  Peril  137 

shoveling  at  the  white  spot.  Jimmy  and  his 
guide  held  their  ground  for  a  minute  as  they 
watched  the  operation.  Then  curiosity  got  the 
better  of  them  and  they  slid  down  to  the  scene 
of  Cat's  activities.  In  evidence  there  was 
nothing  more  exciting  than  a  heap  of  oyster 
shells,  apparently  recently  laid  bare  by  a  sudden 
shifting  of  the  sands. 

11  What  sort  of  fool  doings  is  this?  "  sneered 
Jimmy  as  he  watched  his  imperturbable  com- 
panion plying  his  shovel  amid  the  crumbly  shells. 
"  These  ain't  anything  but  oyster  shells." 

11  That's  all  right,"  Cat  condescended  to 
answer  as  he  dug  away.  "  You  wait.  What  are 
oyster  shells  doing  way  up  here?  " 

"  Reckon  somebody  just  had  an  oyster  roast," 
surmised  the  short  lad. 

Luke  had  picked  up  some  of  the  shells  and 
was  crumbling  them  between  his  powerful 
fingers. 

"  Them's  oyster  shells,  all  right,"  he 
announced.  "  I  used  to  be  a  oyster  opener,  and 
I  know  these  here  ain't  no  new  shells.  Ain't 
no  tellin'  how  old  they  is." 

"  See,"  exulted  Cat,  stopping  his  labor  for  a 


138  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

moment.  "  That's  what  I  thought.  .'These  oys- 
ters are  about  two  hundred  years  old.  Black- 
beard  may  have  put  'em  here  to  cover  up  some 
treasure,  and  then  he  hid  'em  with  sand,  and 
they've  been  covered  up  all  this  time  till  the 
wind  blew  it  off  lately.  Here's  where  my  dream 
comes  true,  see?  " 

And  back  he  went  to  his  digging. 

"  Quit  wasting  your  time,  and  let's  go  on 
home,"  urged  Jimmy. 

But  Cat,  vigorously  plying  his  implement  and 
sending  the  sand  and  shells  flying  in  every 
direction,  was  not  to  be  moved.  Jimmy  and  Luke 
resigned  themselves  to  looking  on  idly. 

Suddenly  the  worker's  shovel  struck  something 
hard,  and  the  excited  delver  reached  down  and 
drew  forth,  not  a  treasure  chest,  but  a  piece  of 
broken  pottery.  This  he  cast  aside  with  a  look 
of  disgust  and  proceeded  with  his  digging.  A 
few  moments  of  work  brought  to  view  a  rotten 
plank,  and  when  this  was  raised  there  appeared, 
to  the  amazement  of  all,  charred  bones  and  bits 
of  charcoal. 

"  Bones,"  announced  Cat  as  he  picked  up  one 
of  the  fragments  with  a  puzzled  look  and  vague 


At  Cape  Peril  139 

visions  of  ogres  floating  through  his  brain. 
11  Babies.  Must  be  the  whole  Blackboard 
family." 

Luke  edged  away  superstitiously,  or  perhaps 
craftily,  to  avoid  being  called  on  to  engage  in 
unnecessary  labor. 

"  Chicken  bones,"  sniffed  Jimmy  contemptu- 
ously, as  Cat  dropped  them  and  set  to  plugging 
away  once  more. 

Suddenly  the  digger  was  on  his  knees,  scrap- 
ing with  his  hands  in  the  moist  sand  and  then 
sifting  it  through  his  fingers.  A  few  moments 
later  he  was  triumphantly  holding  up  for 
Jimmy's  inspection  a  small  beadlike  object. 
Then,  under  more  scraping,  several  other  pieces 
of  broken  pottery  came  to  light,  and  finally,  with 
a  hatchet  head  of  stone  and  several  arrows,  the 
revelation  was  complete.  The  Blackboard  theory 
had  exploded. 

"  Oh,  shucks,"  wailed  Cat.  "  Nothing  but  the 
grave  of  some  old  Indian.  I  was  looking  for 
blunderbusses  and  coins  and  here  I  light  on 
beads  and  arrows." 

Luke's  eyes  popped,  while  Jimmy  burst  into  a 
roar  of  laughter,  so  droll  was  the  look  of  disap- 


140  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

pointment  on  the  face  of  the  treasure  seeker. 

"  I  ain't  goin'  to  stay  here  no  longer," 
declared  the  mulatto,  making  ready  to  move 
off.  "It's  bad  luck  fooling  'round  graves.  No 
sir,  I  don't  stay  aroun'  this  place."  And  off  he 
strode. 

The  boys  lingered  over  their  awesome   find. 

"  Cheer  up,  Cat,"  encouraged  Jimmy. 
"  You've  made  a  big  find  anyhow.  I  tell  you 
what  those  little  bones  are.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber about  reading  that  the  Indians  killed  the 
warrior's  dogs  and  buried  them  with  him  so 
they  could  be  with  him  in  the  Happy  Hunting 
Grounds?  And  when  they  ate  dogs,  they  buried 
what  was  left,  too." 

"  B'lieve  I  have,"  recalled  Cat,  still  with  a 
dismal  look  on  his  upturned  face. 

"  Sure,"  proceeded  Jimmy,  "  and  they  used 
to  bury  the  chief  sitting  up  and  with  him  every- 
thing he  owned,  arrows,  beads,  wampum,  tommy- 
hawk  and  all  his  junk.  They  used  to  give  dead 
people  things  instead  of  leaving  things  in  their 
wills  like  we  do  now." 

"  Oh,  ye-ah,  I  remember,"  Cat  put  in.  "And 
they  used  to  set  a  kettle  of  food  on  the  grave 


At  Cape  Peril  141 

with  three  weeks'  rations.  That's  what  that 
pottery  was  for." 

"  Sure!  " 

Jimmy  yawned  and  turned  away. 

"  Well,  where 's  the  Indian?  "  Cat  insisted. 
"  'Spose  he's  down  deeper?  " 

"After  the  three  weeks'  rations  gave  out  he 
piked  on  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds," 
jested  Jimmy.  "  Now  come  on,  let's  get  away 
from  here  or  Luke  will  go  bughouse." 

"  Well,  I'm  coming  back  and  dig  some  more 
to-morrow,"  Cat  declared,  as  he  proceeded  to 
gather  up  some  of  the  relics  and  stuff  them  into 
his  pockets. 

This  completed,  the  boys  joined  Luke,  who 
was  happily  unconscious  of  the  gruesome  speci- 
mens Cat  was  carrying  in  his  pocket.  They 
made  their  way  back  to  Seagulls'  Nest  by  a 
road  some  distance  from  the  ocean  in  order  to 
avoid  the  high  running  surf. 

Arriving  at  the  house,  they  found  Turner 
without  news  of  the  flyers,  and  then  Cat  pro- 
ceeded to  pour  forth  the  story  of  his  find,  exhibit- 
ing his  relics  at  the  same  time. 

Turner  listened  with  interest   and   inspected 


142  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

the  miscellaneous  collection  wi*£h  no  little 
amusement. 

"  Sorry  to  disappoint  you,  boys,  but. I  don't 
think  you  are  holding  in  your  hands  the  remains 
of  Powhatan  or  Sitting  Bull  or  their  squaws  or 
papooses,  but  I  do  think  you've  struck  what  they 
call  a  shell  heap,  and  you've  got  hold  of  some  of 
the  bones  of  the  dogs  and  chickens  and  so  forth 
they  feasted  on." 

"  Blame  it  then!  "  exclaimed  Cat  disgustedly, 
at  the  same  time  throwing  the  bones  on  the 
floor.  "  I  wouldn't  mind  carrying  a  Big  Chief 
around  to  show  to  all  the  girls,  but  blessed  if 
I'm  going  to  tote  any  chicken  bones  around." 

"  What'd  I  tell  you?  "  said  Jimmy.  "  Thought 
you  knew  more'n  I  did.  Told  you  it  warn't 
anything  but  dogs'  bones." 

"  That's  all  right,"  encouraged  Turner,  "  he's 
made  a  big  discovery  anyhow,  and  he'll  get  a 
write-up  in  the  paper.  This  is  what  the  re- 
porters call  a  scoop.  Wait  till  I  show  you 
something  in  an  Indian  book  I've  got  up- 
stairs." 

Jimmy  continued  to  joke  Cat  about  his  bone 
find  till  Turner  appeared  with  a  book. 


At  Cape  Peril  143 

"  Listen  here,"  he  said  opening  the  volume, 
and  then  he  began  to  read:  "  '  Many  ancient 
sites  have  been  discovered  along  the  streams  of 
tidewater  Virginia,  marking  the  positions  of  vil- 
lages indicated  by  Capt.  John  Smith.  In  some 
localities,  banks  of  oyster  shells,  intermingled 
with  bits  of  pottery,  implements  of  stone  and 
bone,  and  fragments  of  bones  of  animals  which 
had  served  as  food,  alone  mark  the  position  of 
some  ancient  settlement.'  Now,  as  long  as  I've 
got  the  book,"  he  continued,  "  I'll  read  you 
what  the  historian  Strachey  said  about  the 
Indian  villages  in  these  parts." 

"  *  Their  houses  or  towns  are  generally  by  the 
rivers,  or  not  far  from  springs,  and  commonly 
built  on  a  hill  or  rise  of  ground  so  that  they  may 
overlook  the  water  and  see  everything  that  stirs 
on  it.  The  houses  are  built  far  apart  and  there 
is  no  pretense  of  a  street.  All  the  houses, 
including  the  chief's  house,  are  exactly  alike. 
Round  roofs  are  made  of  young  twigs  thatched 
with  mats  thrown  over  them.  The  walls  are 
made  of  the  bark  of  trees. 

"  l  In  the  middle  of  the  house,  there  is  a 
smoke  hole,  through  which  the  smoke  from  the 


144  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

fire  below  can  get  out.  Every  house  has  two 
doors  —  one  in  front  and  one  in  the  rear.  The 
doors  are  never  bolted,  but  simply  hung  with 
mats,  which  are  raised  or  dropped  at  pleasure. 
The  houses  are  usually  built  under  great  trees  to 
protect  them  from  the  winter  winds  and  the 
summer  sun.  They  have  no  windows.  All  the 
light  comes  through  the  doors  or  the  smoke 
vent.  The  Indians  eat,  sleep  and  cook  all  in  one 
room. 

"  '  Their  beds  are  made  of  short  posts  driven 
in  the  ground  around  the  sides  of  the  wigwam,  a 
foot  high,  with  poles  laid  along  and  reeds  cast 
across  them.  They  sleep  on  a  mat  which  they 
roll  up  on  arising. 

"  *  In  March  and  April,  they  net  fish  and  hunt 
turkeys  and  squirrels,  and  in  May  they  plant 
out  their  corn.  In  the  hunting  season,  they 
leave  their  houses,  gather  together  in  companies, 
and  with  their  families,  go  to  the  most  deserted 
places  up  near  the  mountains  where  there  is 
plenty  of  game.  The  huts  in  which  they  live 
during  this  hunting  season  are  flimsy  cabins, 
with  mats  thrown  over  them.  These  mats  the 
squaws  carry  when  a  move  is  made.  They  like- 


At  Cape  Peril  145 

wise  carry  the  corn,  acorns,  mortars,  and  all  the 
bag  and  baggage.' 

"  Now  to  prove  to  you  they  ate  dogs,  listen  to 
what  Henry  Hudson  said  about  the  Algonquin 
Indians  on  the  Hudson: 

11  '  I  sailed  to  the  shore  in  one  of  their  canoes 
with  an  old  man,  who  was  chief  of  a  tribe  con- 
sisting of  forty  men  and  seventeen  women;  these 
I  saw  there  in  a  house  well  constructed  of  oak- 
bark,  and  circular  in  shape,  so  that  it  had  the 
appearance  of  being  built  with  an  arched  roof. 
It  contained  a  great  quantity  of  maize,  or  Indian 
corn,  and  beans  of  last  year's  growth,  and  there 
lay  near  the  house  for  the  purpose  of  drying, 
enough  to  load  three  ships,  besides  what  was 
growing  in  the  fields.  On  our  coming  into  the 
house,  two  mats  were  spread  out  to  sit  upon, 
and  immediately  some  food  was  served  in  well 
made  wooden  bowls:  two  men  were  also  dis- 
patched at  once  with  bows  and  arrows  in  quest 
of  game.  Soon  after  they  brought  in  a  pair  of 
pigeons  which  they  had  shot.  They  likewise 
killed  a  fat  dog,  and  skinned  it  in  great  haste 
with  shells  which  they  had  got  out  of  the  water.' 

"  There's  your  dog  feast,"  said  Turner,  "  and 


146  The  Boij  Scouts  of  the  Air 

it's  all  a  matter  of  taste.  If  you'd  been  brought 
up  on  them  or  rats  or  what  not  you  smack  your 
lips  over  'em." 

"  I'U  take  the  what  not,"  declared  Cat,  "  but 
excuse  me  from  Chink's  grub." 

"  You  know,"  said  Turner  with  a  smile,  "  the 
Chinese  used  to  think  that  pig  wasn't  fit  to  eat 
till  a  young  Chink  fingering  around  in  the  ashes 
of  a  burnt-down  house  stuck  his  thumb  in  the 
cremated  family  pig  and  then  stuck  it  in  his 
mouth  to  cool  and  got  the  taste.  And,  when  he 
spread  around  the  news  of  what  a  dainty  it  was, 
every  Chinaman  in  the  neighborhood  burnt  down 
his  house  with  the  pig  in  it  so  as  to  pleasure  him- 
self with  that  wonderful  taste.  They'd  been 
doing  that  for  a  thousand  years  before  they  dis- 
covered you  could  roast  a  pig  without  burning 
a  house  down." 

"  Where 'd  you  get  that  from!  "  inquired 
Jimmy. 

"  That's  from  Lamb  on  Roast  Pig." 

"  Lamb  on  Roast  Pig!  "  laughed  Cat.  "  What 
are  you  giving  us  I  " 

"  I  mean,"  drawled  Turner,  "  a  fellow  named 
Charles  Lamb  wrote  the  dope." 


At  Cape  Peril  147 

"  Must  have  had  some  dope  to  write  that  fool 
stuff,"  surmised  Jimmy. 

Cat  booed. 

"  That'll  do,"  commanded  Turner.  "  Now 
chase  yourselves  out  with  that  truck,  and  let 
me  work." 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOW  THE  AIEBUG  STAETED 

After  the  boys  had  unloaded  their  minds  of 
the  Indian  discovery  and  reviewed  the  shark 
episode  half  a  dozen  times  or  more,  they  began 
to  grow  restless.  A  vague  apprehension  about 
the  fate  of  Hardy  and  Legs  took  possession  of 
them,  while  the  dismally  howling  wind  fur- 
nished an  unpleasant  accompaniment  to  their 
thoughts.  Cat  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  window- 
panes  and  gazed  out  moodily  at  the  curling 
whitecaps.  Jimmy  sought  Luke's  company  in 
the  kitchen,  but  the  mulatto  with  a  sulky  scowl 
emitted  nothing  but  grunts,  so  the  lad  hunted 
up  Turner. 

"  No  news  from  Kitty  Hawk  yet,"  announced 
the  latter,  adding  such  encouragement  as  he  was 
able  to  conjure  up. 

After  joining  Cat  once  more  in  his  gloomy 
occupation  of  staring  at  the  high  running  surf 
and  scurrying  clouds,  Jimmy  suggested  killing 
time  by  a  nap.  If  there  ever  were  a  time  when 

148 


At  Cape  Peril  149 

it  was  profitable  to  be  dead  to  the  world,  this 
seemed  the  occasion;  so  upstairs  bounded  the 
two,  after  getting  Turner's  promise  to  wake 
them  in  case  anything  exciting  turned  up. 

At  six,  they  were  down  again,  hurrying  out 
to  watch  the  mighty  upheaval  of  the  ocean. 
Breasting  the  wind,  they  scurried  along  the  low 
sand  hills  above  the  beach.  Now  that  the  tide 
was  approaching  its  maximum,  the  foaming 
breakers  beat  the  shore  with  redoubled  fury. 
The  low  stretch  between  Cape  Peril  and  Sea- 
gulls' Nest  was  completely  submerged,  and  the 
waves  were  washing  over  into  Lake  Herring. 
The  spillway  appeared  in  danger  of  demolition. 

Excitement  grew  when  the  watchers  saw  in 
the  far  distance  a  big  liner  upreared  on  the 
summit  of  a  great  wave,  only  to  disappear  the 
next  moment  in  the  trough,  and  then  mount 
into  sight  once  more  on  another  swell. 

When  the  wind  drove  the  boys  indoors  once 
more,  they  found  dinner  waiting  to  furnish  a 
half -hour's  diversion.  The  evening  dragged  by 
without  news  of  yacht  or  flyers.  By  nine  o'clock 
darkness  had  shrouded  the  ocean  except  where 
sections  gleamed  under  the  shafts  of  light  that 


150  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

poured  forth  from  the  lighthouse  of  Cape  Peril. 

"  Buffum's  on  the  job,"  declared  the  Tarheel. 

About  eleven,  the  three  watchers  noted  a  per- 
ceptible lull  in  the  blast  and,  amid  the  scudding 
clouds,  stars  peeped  out  here  and  there.  The 
barometer  was  rising,  as  Turner  noted. 

'  *  The  storm  must  have  turned  tail  at  Hatteras 
as  Buffum  predicted,"  was  his  opinion,  "  and 
the  worst  is  over.  I  was  afraid  we'd  have  one 
of  those  August  blows  that  come  once  in  a 
generation  and  lift  a  few  house  lids  and  rear- 
range the  forestry,  but  it  seems  that's  given  us 
the  go-by.  How  about  bed!  " 

As  it  was  evident  that  the  speaker  had  no 
intention  of  turning  in  himself,  the  lads,  forti- 
fied by  their  nap,  firmly  declined.  They  meant 
to  see  the  thing  out.  Turner  allowed  himself 
to  be  persuaded.  With  blinds  tight  shut  and  a 
bright  light  burning,  the  room  was  filled  with 
talk  of  Indians  for  half  an  hour  longer.  Then, 
aircraft  bobbed  up.  After  an  hour  and  more 
of  war-aeronautic  talk,  the  Tarheel  woke  up  to 
the  very  evident  fact  that,  although  the  break- 
ers kept  up  their  uninterrupted  boom  against 
the  beach,  the  main  fury  of  the  wind  was  well 


At  Cape  Peril  151 

over,  leaving  in  its  wake  a  chain  of  rapidly  suc- 
ceeding flaws. 

"  Look  here,  boys,"  insisted  the  man,  after 
his  weather  wisdom  was  sufficiently  satisfied, 
"  all  danger  of  our  doing  the  Noah's  ark  stunt 
is  over.  Hardy  and  Company  are  snug  in  bed 
and  the  yacht's  in  port.  Off  to  bed  with  you." 

"  Say,  just  one  more  thing,"  pleaded  Jimmy. 
"  Before  we  go,  tell  us  how  people  first  got 
hold  of  the  flying  idea.  Come  across." 

"Well,  of  all  the—"  yawned  Turner  and 
then  conceded.  "  All  right.  I'll  give  you  about 
ten  minutes'  dope  on  that,  and  then  I'm  sealed 
and  soldered.  Get  me?  " 

Jimmy  and  Cat  got  him. 

"  As  to  the  flying  idea,"  proceeded  the  host, 
"  I  reckon  dreams  started  it.  There's  no  dream 
more  common  than  the  one  in  which  you  think 
you  are  flying  or  gliding  through  the  air,  and 
it's  a  pretty  keen  sensation." 

Cat  and  Jimmy  hastened  to  recount  some  of 
their  own  experiences  in  this  line,  but  Turner, 
mindful  of  his  time  limit,  was  quick  to  cut 
them  off. 

"  Then,  when  folks  got  to  thinking  about  fly- 


152  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

ing,"  he  proceeded,  "  their  idea  was  to  get  up 
to  heaven  without  dying  and  turning  to  angels. 
The  earliest  nations  in  history  have  traditions 
and  legends  along  this  line.  Of  all  the  fancies, 
the  imagination  of  the  Indians  took  the  cake. 
I  mean  the  inhabitants  of  India,  not  the  Ameri- 
can Indians,  misnamed  by  the  first  explorers 
tinder  the  impression  their  ships  had  struck  the 
other  side  of  the  globe. 

"  One  funny  yarn  was  about  a  Brahmin,  one 
of  the  Hindoo  priests,  who  spied  the  god  Indra's 
Wishing  Cow  wandering  about  on  a  meadow. 
The  idea  occurred  to  him  that  if  he'd  freeze 
tight  to  the  cow's  tail  he'd  get  a  lift  up  to  their 
heaven  on  the  top  of  the  Himalayan  mountains. 
So  sure  'nuf,  when  the  kindly  cow  had  laid  in 
her  stock  of  hay  and  was  ready  to  frisk  back 
to  heaven,  the  Brahmin,  with  a  stranglehold 
on  her  tail,  got  in  too,  and  saw  the  whole 
menagerie  free.  The  next  day,  when  the  cow 
took  a  notion  to  slide  down  to  earth  again,  she 
carried  the  passenger  in  the  Pullman  tail-car, 
and  landed  him  safely  on  his  native  heath. 

"  Very  proud  of  his  feat,  he  told  the  neigh- 
bors and  got  the  whole  gang  worked  up  for 


At  Cape  Peril  153 

the  same  picnic,  so  he  concocted  a  plan.  '  Pals,' 
he  said,  *  I  tell  you  how  we'll  all  get  a  finger 
in  the  pie.  I'll  hang  on  to  the  cow's  tail,  and 
one  of  you  can  stretch  out  and  clamp  on  to  my 
feet,  and  the  next  one  on  to  his  feet,  and  the 
next  -on  to  his,  and  so  down  the  line,  and  we'll 
all  get  a  lift  like  the  tail  of  a  kite.'  Well,  that's 
what  they  did  —  I  mean  so  far  as  the  start 
was  concerned.  The  Wishing  Cow  made  her 
spring-off  and  carried  a  string  of  about  twelve 
husky  Brahmins  hanging  on  to  her  elevator. 
But,  en  route,  one  of  the  lower  Brahmins,  crav- 
ing some  conversation,  called  out  to  the  tail- 
holder,  *  How  tall  did  you  say  the  god  Indra's 
crown  was?  '  And  the  top  chump,  who  must 
have  been  a  little  soft  in  the  attic,  answered, 
*  Bout  this  tall,'  and  let  loose  the  cow's  tail  so 
as  to  spread  his  hands  and  show  the  height  of 
the  crown.  Very  naturally,  the  whole  train  of 
passengers  came  down  a-kiting  on  their  last 
journey,  hit  the  soil,  and  got  pancaked." 

This  tale  made  something  of  a  hit. 

11  The  Greek  and  Roman  mythologies,"  con- 
tinued the  entertainer,  "  are  chock-full  of  yarns 
about  flying  gods  and  air-prowling  beasts.  The 


154  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

winged  horse  Pegasus  had  a  steady  job  fur- 
nishing air  rides  to  bucks  who  knew  how  to 
handle  him,  But  a  fellow  named  Bellerophon 
tried  to  get  up  to  Olympus,  the  Greek  heaven, 
on  him;  whereupon  Jupiter  sent  a  gadfly  to 
pester  the  beast  till  he  gave  the  ambitious  rider 
a  tumble.  Used  to  be  a  ship  in  the  English 
navy,  by  the  way,  called  The  Bellerophon,  which 
the  sailorboys  proceeded  to  twist  into  The  Bully 
Ruffian. 

"  Then,  there  was  the  god  Mercury,  who  used 
to  plane  through  the  atmosphere  with  winged 
sandals  and  a  feathered  cap,  carrying  aero- 
grams for  his  daddy,  Jupiter.  When  he  was 
off  duty  one  day  he  invented  the  lyre  —  not  the 
kind  you  are  thinking  of,  but  the  1-y-r-e  —  the 
ancestor  of  the  jews '-harp  that  we  boys  call  the 
juice-harp." 

"  That's  where  quicksilver  gets  its  name 
'  mercury,'  after  him,  isn't  it?  "  asked  Jimmy. 

"  That's  right,  Solomon.  Now  we'll  get  down 
to  the  first  account  of  a  man  trying  to  fly,  in 
the  Greek  fables.  It  seems  a  chap  named 
Daedalus  broke  out  of  a  tower  in  which  he'd 
been  jugged  by  King  Minos,  but  the  tower  was 


At  Cape  Peril  155 

on  an  island,  and  the  question  was  how  to  get 
away  from  the  island  without  a  boat.  Then 
the  bird  idea  struck  him,  so  he  got  busy  making 
wings  for  himself  and  his  son  Icarus.  He  tacked 
big  feathers  together  with  thread  and  stuck  the 
little  ones  on  with  wax  till  the  whole  contrap- 
tion had  the  curve  of  a  bird's  wing.  His  son, 
Ikey,  seems  to  have  been  a  mischievous  little 
monkey  who  kept  blowing  the  feathers  around 
and  meddling  with  the  wax,  and  I  suppose  that's 
the  reason  he  got  what  was  coming  to  him  later, 
as  happens  to  all  the  sprightly  kids  in  the  pious 
story  books. 

"  Well,  when  the  old  man  had  finished  off  his 
two  pair  of  wings  he  hoisted  his  up  and  gave 
'em  a  wave  and  found  he  could  get  a  lift  as 
easy  as  falling  off  a  log.  Then,  he  proceeded  to 
put  young  Ikey  wise.  *  Now,  Ike,'  says  he,  *  no 
tail-spins  or  nose-dives,  or  loop-the-loops,  but 
just  straight  business,  and  don't  you  fly  too  low 
or  the  damp  sea  air  will  take  all  the  curl  out 
of  those  Marcelle  wave  feathers,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  don't  you  get  to  rocketing  too  high 
or  the  sun  will  melt  the  wax. '  In  those  benighted 
days,  folks  thought  the  sun  was  just  a  couple 


156  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

o'  flights  upstairs,  and  the  higher  you  got,  the 
hotter,  which  don't  seem  like  such  a  fool  con- 
clusion after  all. 

"  Well,  to  go  back  to  our  muttonhead,  Ikey  — 
what  should  he  do  but  get  to  feeling  his  oats 
and  forget  all  the  advice  his  dad  gave  him? 
He  started  right  off  to  skylarking;  the  wax 
melted  and  down  flopped  Ikey  into  the  sea.  No 
sharks  in  those  waters,  it  seems,  for  the  old 
man  planed  down,  fished  out  all  that  was  left 
of  Ikey's  ambitions  and  buried  it,  and  then  went 
on  his  way  and  made  an  eggshell  landing  in 
Sicily. 

"  It's  the  same  old  story  with  flyers  learning 
these  days.  Most  of  the  smash-ups  in  the  early 
part  of  the  war  were  caused  by  young  smart 
Alecks  thinking  they  knew  it  all  on  the  first 
jump-off.  Take  that  in  and  think  it  over  good 
and  hard.  Even  after  you  graduate  at  college, 
you  have  hardly  begun  your  education." 

"  What's  the  use  of  starting,  then?  " 
demanded  Cat. 

Turner  glanced  sharply  at  the  boy. 

"  Because  if  you  don't  and,  unless  you  keep 
on  plugging,  you'll  degenerate  into  a  big, 


At  Cape  Peril  157 

flabby,  wop  of  a  numskull.  That  what  you're 
aiming  for?  " 

"  Naw,"  conceded  Cat,  "  not  all  that." 

"  Well!  Come  back  to  common  sense  and 
stay  there. 

"  Now  to  come  down  to  modern  times,  there 
was  a  monk  in  Spain  along  about  the  fourteenth 
century  who  is  said  to  have  jumped  from  a 
tower  with  a  parachute  sort  of  contrivance  and 
flown  some  distance.  Then,  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  there  was  a  locksmith  who  made  a  flying 
device.  He  began  by  jumping  out  of  the  first 
story  window,  like  a  disappointed  lover  I  heard 
of  once  who  tried  to  commit  suicide  that  way." 

"  Ha!  ha!  "  said  Cat.  "  Some  bold  inventor 
he  was.  'S'pose  he  jumped  into  a  net,  too." 

"'But,  my  dear  Catboy,  don't  you  know  you 
can't  put  your  foot  on  the  top  round  of  the 
ladder  first  thing?  Every  invention  has  been 
worked  to  a  finish  by  a  chain  of  people  feeling 
their  way  in  that  direction,  in  some  cases  through 
hundreds  of  years.  Every  big  bug  you  hear  of 
in  any  line  of  invention  is  standing  on  the  top 
of  the  brains  of  folks  you  don't  see,  some  of 
them  as  dead  as  Caesar  thousands  of  years. 


158  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  Well,  anyway,  the  locksmith  .kept  a-going 
till  he  tried  the  second  story  and  then  the  third, 
and  finally  he  was  able  to  fly  over  houses  and 
rivers,  so  they  say.  I  wasn't  there.  So  other 
people,  on  down  through  the  centuries,  kept  jug- 
gling their  brains,  and  projecting  and  projecting. 
At  last,  somebody  in  France  invented  the  *  aero- 
nautical fish  '  that  attracted  a  lot  of  attention. 
This  was  a  sort  of  balloon,  shaped  like  a  fish, 
and  was  propelled  with  wings,  or  fins,  worked 
by  cranks  —  not  human  ones.  But  the  trouble 
with  even  the  best  of  these  devices  was  that 
they  could  operate  only  when  the  air  was  abso- 
lutely still,  so  of  course  they  were  of  no  prac- 
tical service.  It  was  evident,  too,  to  more  sensi- 
ble men  that  the  fish  idea  was  off,  so  far  as  the 
air  was  concerned,  but,  if  anything  serviceable 
was  to  come,  the  machine  would  have  to  be 
modeled  after  a  bird,  which  is  going  back  to 
the  Greeks,  after  all. 

"  Even  the  balloon  idea  doesn't  go  so  far 
back,"  proceeded  Turner.  "  It  depended  on  the 
discovery  of  hydrogen  gas  about  a  hundred  and 
fifty  ye,ars  ago.  Then  somebody  thought  of  fill- 
ing hogs'  bladders  and  paper-bags  with  this 


At  Cape  Peril  159 

stuff,  to  see  if  they  would  work.  But  neither 
did.  The  only  thing  they  could  raise  with  it  was 
a  soap-bubble.  After  a  while  two  brothers 
named  Montgolfier,  paper-makers  in  France,  hit 
on  the  idea  of  generating  a  gas  from  slightly- 
moistened  straw  and  wool  set  to  burning;  and 
found  that  this  gas  would  raise  a  silk  bag  when 
allowed  to  enter  an  opening  in  its  bottom.  The 
truth  was,  though,  it  wasn't  a  gas  that  did  it, 
but  just  the  hot  air. 

11  Satisfied  they  could  turn  the  trick,  the 
brothers  staged  a  free  show  and  set  Paris  frog- 
eyed.  After  some  improvements  to  the  body  of 
the  balloon,  the  inventors  attached  a  wicker- 
basket  and,  after  some  persuasion,  induced  a 
sheep,  a  rooster,  and  a  duck  to  take  a  trip.  This 
congenial  trio  rose  aloft  and  then  came  down 
once  more  in  safety." 

*  *  Bah-bah !  Quack-quack !  Cockadoodle-do !  ' ' 
Cat  horseplayed. 

"  Dunno  what  sort  of  language  they  used," 
laughed  the  Tarheel,  "  but  I  hope  it  wasn't 
that  rotten.  Anyhow,  when  I  studied  French, 
I  was  surprised  to  find  that  French  roosters 
don't  talk  like  ours,  but  say  '  Co-co-ri-co!  —  at 


160  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

least  that's  what  the  book  gave.  But  when  I  got 
over  on  the  other  side,  during  the  war,  I  couldn't 
tell  a  bit  of  difference  between  their  barnyard 
clatter  and  the  fowl  conversation  we  hear  this 
side. 

'  *  Well,  to  get  back  to  the  airships  —  from 
that  time,  everybody  went  balloon  crazy.  All 
sorts  of  improvements  were  made  in  the  machine. 
The  silk  was  varnished,  the  bag  was  covered 
with  a  net,  and  the  apparatus  was  furnished  with 
a  valve,  barometer  and  sand-ballast.  Instead 
of  the  old  dangerous  way  of  filling  them  with 
hot  air  from  a  fire,  hydrogen  or  coal  gas  was 
used.  Then  the  parachute  game  began,  with 
more  than  one  broken  neck  and  pancake  landing, 
as  we  used  to  call  a  plane  smash-up  in  France. 

"  Then,  before  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, balloons  began  to  be  used  in  war  to  observe 
the  enemy,  same  thing  our  sausage  affairs  are 
used  for  now.  In  addition  to  this,  they  were 
used  by  scientists  to  sample  the  upper  atmos- 
phere. One  fellow  got  as  high  as  23,000  feet  — 
over  four  miles.  Our  country  too,  has  had  fans 
do  all  sorts  of  daredevil  stunts  with  balloons, 
flying  from  coast  to  coast  and  what  not.  Pretty 


At  Cape  Peril  161 

lively  fun  till  the  airplane  made  it  look  just  about 
as  lively  as  croquet." 

"  I've  been  up  in  one,"  announced  Cat, 
proudly,  "  because  the  old  man  bought  some  lib- 
erty bonds  during  the  war  and  he  let  me  have 
the  lift  in  one  of  those  army  baskets  he  was 
entitled  to  for  buying  them." 

"  You've  been  up  in  pretty  much  everything," 
laughed  Turner.  "  It's  about  time  you  were 
going  down  in  a  coal  shaft  to  see  what  the 
other  direction  looks  like.  But  you  haven't 
been  up  to  the  moon  yet,  like  Hans  Phaal  in 
that  balloon  trip  that  wild-eyed  Edgar  Allan  Poe 
wrote  about.  Bunk,  but  pretty  entertaining 
bunk.  Then,  too,  he  wrote  a  hoax  about  a  bal- 
loon crossing  the  Atlantic  that  took  in  a  lot  of 
suckers  when  it  came  out  in  the  New  York  Sun. 
He  was  quite  a  bird  at  slinging  fake  scientific 
bunco. ' ' 

11  Quoth  the  Raven,  '  Nevermore,'  "  put  in 
Jimmy,  rejoicing  in  his  acquaintance  with  the 
author. 

"  *  Nevermore  *  is  right,"  assented  Turner, 
"  and  this  raven  here  is  going  to  his  downy, 
and  you've  got  to,  too,  if  I  have  to  drum  your 


162  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

hides  to  make  you.  Now  for  one  .more  look  at 
the  sea.'* 

As  Jimmy  and  Cat  stopped  behind  a  moment 
to  argue  the  question  as  to  whether  they  would 
allow  themselves  to  be  driven  to  bed  at  the 
early  hour  of  two,  Turner  sauntered  to  the 
door,  opened  it  to  a  gust  that  sent  papers  whirl- 
ing about  the  room,  bounded  out,  and  slammed 
it  behind  him.  An  instant  later,  there  was  a 
sharp  exclamation.  Both  lads  started  up,  rushed 
to  the  door  under  the  impression  that  some 
wreck  was  battering  on  the  coast,  and,  as  the 
room  light  fell  upon  Turner's  form  the  two  could 
distinguish  his  hand  pointing  in  the  direction  of 
the  spectral  lighthouse. 

"  Look,  boys,  look,"  he  yelled.  "  The  Cape 
Peril  light  is  out." 


CHAPTEE  XII 

THE   CAPE   PERIL,  LIGHT  IS  OUT 

"  Look,  look,"  he  had  cried  as  the  two  scouts 
stood  aghast.  "  The  Cape  Peril  light  is  out!  " 

The  lads'  hearts  almost  stopped  beating  as 
they  stared  wildly  into  the  gloom  at  the  dark 
curtain  of  the  horizon  against  which,  by  the 
faint  glow  of  the  few  stars  peeping  through  the 
clouds,  the  lighthouse  was  faintly  outlined  in 
shadow.  The  din  and  hullabaloo  of  wind  and 
waves,  struggling  like  two  fiends,  heightened 
the  horror  of  the  mystery. 

"  He's  — he's  dead!  "  stuttered  out  Cat,  with 
an  exclamation,  as  Cap'n  Buffum's  prediction 
flashed  on  his  mind. 

Turner  appeared  to  give  no  heed  to  his  words. 

"And  look,  look  there!"  The  man  thrust 
a  finger  out  towards  the  sea. 

In  the  distance  a  rocket  was   showering  the 
sky  with  a  cluster  of  bursting  stars.     Then,  the 
pall  of  darkness  settled  once  more. 
163 


164  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

11  Good —  night!  "  shrilled  Jimmy,  trembling 
with  anxiety.  "  What  —  what's  that  mean?  " 

"A  ship  in  distress  —  on  the  shoals,  maybe  — 
that's  what  it  means. " 

"It's  the  yacht,"  gasped  Cat  all  in  a  breath. 
"I  bet  it's  the  yacht." 

"Can't  be!  Watch!  Look  there!  Look  there! 
Look!  " 

Another  fiery  cluster  burst  and  fell. 

With  an  agitated  countenance  and  quickly 
beating  heart,  Turner  stood  for  a  moment  or  two 
longer  staring  into  the  gloom,  his  wits  working 
violently. 

The  brief  pause  seemed  an  eternity  to  the  boys. 

"  We  can't  walk  and  we  can't  swim,  that's 
sure,"  muttered  the  man.  "  Buffum  must  have 
been  taken  sick.  No,  that's  off.  The  light  was 
going  —  and  would  have  kept  on  —  Great  hea- 
ven! "  he  thought  aloud.  "  Of  all  the  cold- 
blooded villainy!  Some  devil's  put  it  out!  " 

Turner  halted  and  frowned. 

He  paced  up  and  down  a  couple  of  minutes 
longer.  Then,  evidently  a  plan  had  suggested 
itself  to  his  mind,  for  he  turned  short  around 
and  started  for  the  door. 


At  Cape  Peril  165 

"  What  you  going  to  do  I  "  Cat  called  after 
him. 

11  Show  you  later,"  flashed  the  reply.  "  One 
of  you  go  and  haul  Luke  out.  You  go,  Jimmy. 
You  follow  me,  Miller." 

So  saying,  Turner  dashed  into  the  house,  took 
time  to  snatch  up  an  electric  flash-light,  then 
rushed  through  the  kitchen  to  a  rear  shed,  leav- 
ing Jimmy  the  job  of  resurrecting  Luke,  asleep 
in  his  shoes  and  half  his  clothes,  on  a  cot  in  the 
closet-room  adjoining  the  kitchen. 

Beaching  the  shed-  Turner  seized  a  great  can 
of  kerosene. 

"  Is  that  oil?  "  asked  the  mystified  Miller, 
who  had  made  the  best  use  of  his  legs  to  keep 
on  his  leader's  heels. 

"  Yes,  kerosene." 

"  What's  that  for?  Not  going  to  set  the 
house  afire?  "  was  the  boy's  excited  query. 

"  Don't  ask  fool  questions,"  snapped  the 
other.  "  Stop  talking  and  work.  Grab  up  that 
tow  —  there  —  there  in  the  corner,  cram  it  in 
that  basket  —  that  one  —  and  come  on.  Here, 
stick  this  axe  on  top  when  you're  done." 

Turner  held  the  light  impatiently  while  Cat, 


166  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

his  mind  in  a  whirl,  pressed  in  as  -much  tow  as 
the  basket  would  hold  and  then  thrust  the  axe 
under  the  receptacle's  handle. 

"  Now,  come  on!  " 

As  Turner  passed  the  closet,  he  reinforced 
Jimmy's  desperate  efforts  to  bring  the  mulatto 
to  full  consciousness.  Finally,  the  cook  came 
forth,  rolling  his  eyes  about  in  his  coffee-colored 
face.  At  sight  of  the  oil  can,  he  faltered  and 
fell  into  a  state  of  agitation,  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  a  fish  out  of  the  water,  gasping  for 
breath.  Clearly  his  suspicions  ran  along  with 
those  Cat  had  expressed. 

"  Lighthouse  light  out.  Going  to  set  a  shack 
up  the  beach  on  fire,"  blurted  Turner  to  relieve 
the  suspense.  "  Here,  take  that  basket."  He 
pointed  to  a  huge  one  in  the  pantry.  "  And  you 
and  Jimmy  pile  in  it  every  magazine  and  news- 
paper in  sight;  then  clamp  the  lid  on,  and  make 
the  best  time  you  know  how  up  to  that  old 
Thompson  cottage.  You  understand?  Lightning 
quick.  And  lock  the  door  after  you  when  you 
come  out." 

Luke,  now  completely  awake  and  consoled  by 
the  news  that  the  roof  was  not  to  be  burned  over 


At  Cape  Peril  167 

his  head,  grabbed  up  the  basket,  hurried  into 
the  living  room,  and  assisted  Jimmy  in  creating 
a  small  hurricane  as  the  two  bustled  and  scram- 
bled about,  harvesting  the  papers. 

11  Now  —  double  quick!  "  was  Turner 's  order 
to  Miller. 

Man  and  boy  hurried  out  into  the  wind  and 
darkness,  and,  guided  by  the  rays  of  the  flash- 
light, made  for  the  trail  back  of  the  sandhills. 
The  stiff  wind  behind  them  aided  their  speed  as 
they  struck  into  the  path,  and  it  took  but  a 
short  time  to  reach  the  ramshackle  cottage. 
Windowless  and  doorless  it  stood,  a  flimsy  skele- 
ton. How  it  had  so  long  resisted  being  swept 
away  entirely  seemed  little  short  of  a  miracle. 

At  the  entrance,  Turner  set  down  his  burden, 
and,  seizing  the  axe,  set  to  work  slashing  at  the 
decaying  weather-boarding  that  splintered  like 
tinder  under  his  efforts.  By  the  time  Luke  and 
Jimmy  arrived  panting,  a  considerable  pile  of 
kindling  had  accumulated. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  paper,  tow  and  wood 
heaped  near  the  central  partition  was  saturated 
with  the  contents  of  the  can,  and,  on  the  applica- 
tion of  a  match,  burst  into  sputtering  and  crack- 


168  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

ling  flames.  Fanned  by  the  full  sweep  of  the 
wind,  the  blaze  soon  had  the  partition  wall  in  its 
embrace. 

11  Burn,  for  heaven's  sake,  burn  quick!  " 
Turner  exhorted  the  fire. 

Before  many  moments  had  passed,  his  eager 
wish  was  gratified.  The  flames  rose  high  above 
the  smoke,  licking  up  the  dry,  mouldering  wood. 
It  was  merely  the  question  of  a  short  time  before 
the  whole  building  would  be  in  flames  —  one 
huge,  roaring  bonfire. 

11  Now,"  shouted  Turner,  his  duty  here  dis- 
charged. "  That'll  help  a  little  while  and  may 
save  a  ship.  Here,  let's  beat  it." 

He  had  already  moved  off,  and,  with  his  back 
to  the  blaze,  was  scanning  the  ocean  eagerly. 
Seeing  nothing,  he  started  off  at  a  trot,  axe  in 
one  hand  and  flash-light  in  the  other.  The  boys 
and  Luke  tried  to  keep  pace,  the  mulatto  in  a 
state  of  superstitious  tremor  at  the  whole 
proceedings. 

"  This  come  o'  them  boys  diggin'  up  them 
bones  befo'  their  time,"  was  his  conclusion. 

At  a  high  point  of  the  way,  Turner  halted 
for  a  moment  and  gazed  seaward. 


At  Cape  Peril  169 

"  Thank  heaven!  "  he  exclaimed,  seizing  Mil- 
ler's arm  and  directing  his  attention  to  a  quick 
succession  of  rockets.  "  That  means  they've 
seen  the  light  and  got  their  bearings.  Thank 
God!  " 

A  little  later  the  same  signal  appeared  once 
more. 

* '  See !  see !  ' '  Turner  shouted  against  the  wind. 
"  No  mistake.  It's  all  right.  Now  they  can 
haul  off  and  keep  from  being  pounded  to  pieces. 
We've  saved  'em.  Thank  God!  " 

"  Going  to  Cape  Peril?  "  asked  Cat,  as  they 
jogged  on  again. 

11  Straight  as  I  can  make  it,"  was  the  answer. 
"  If  I  have  to  fight  a  whirlwind  to  get  there." 

"  Don't  you  s 'pose  some  of  the  fishermen 
have  gone  over?  "  suggested  Jimmy,  hopefully. 

"  Not  counting  on  anything.  More  than 
likely  they're  all  sound  asleep  and  haven't  seen 
a  thing.  I'm  not  taking  any  chances.  Some- 
thing's happened  to  Buffum  and  my  business  is 
to  see  what  it  is." 

Until  the  party  reached  Seagulls'  Nest  nothing 
more  was  said,  for,  with  heads  down  and  run- 
ning against  the  blast,  talking  was  difficult. 


170  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  Now,"  said  Turner  with  decision,  as  they 
reached  the  house.  "I'm  going  U>  cross  Her- 
ring in  the  seaplane,  and  I  want  one  fellow  to 
help  me.  Jimmy's  the  smallest  and  the  speediest 
and  I'm  not  going  to  get  in  any  danger  —  if  I 
can  help  it." 

"  Going  to  let  me  go?  "  said  Jimmy  with  ready 
eagerness.  "  Me?  " 

11  Why  not  me,  too?  "  demanded  Cat  almost 
angrily. 

"  No  time  for  arguing,"  snapped  Turner  as 
he  hurried  about  providing  himself  with  some 
necessary  articles,  Cat  pleading  at  his  heels. 
"  You  and  Luke  stay  tight  in  this  house.  There 
may  be  crooks  around.  When  you  see  a  light  in 
the  Cape  Peril  lighthouse  window,  then  you'll 
know  we're  there  and  all's  0.  K." 

A  few  minutes  later,  Turner  and  Jimmy, 
equipped  for  their  hazardous  expedition,  had 
dashed  from  the  house,  leaving  Cat  disconsolate 
and  Luke  only  too  delighted  to  be  able  to  return 
once  more  in  peace  to  his  slumbers. 


CHAPTER 

EESCUB   THROUGH    THE   STOEM 

Jimmy,  keyed  to  the  highest  tension  by  this 
sudden  plunge  into  a  perilous  adventure,  fol- 
lowed close  on  Turner's  heels,  axe  a-shoulder, 
down  to  Lake  Herring.  While  the  lake  presented 
a  peaceful  scene  in  comparison  with  the  billowy 
ocean,  its  wind-lashed  surface  could  scarcely  be 
likened  to  a  millpond. 

"  I  wonder  where  in  the  mischief  the  row- 
boat  is?  "  Turner  took  time  to  ask  as  he  shot 
his  light  about  the  shore  near  the  hangar  bridge. 

"  What  rowboat?  Were  you  going  in  a  row- 
boat?  "  Jimmy  returned  with  some  uneasiness. 

"No  time  for  that,  boy,  when  the  hydro  can 
do  the  business.  Remember  we  had  a  rowboat 
chained  here  —  the  one  that  belonged  to  the 
house?  " 

Jimmy  recalled  the  fact  instantly. 

"  Maybe  the  wind  tore  it  off?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Maybe  it  did,  but  it's  powerful  funny,  for 
there's  the  chain  hanging  to  the  post." 

171 


172  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

There  was  no  time  for  further  speculation. 
The  two  made  their  way  along  the  foot  bridge, 
moving  with  great  caution  to  keep  from  being 
swept  over.  The  hydro  shed  seemed  intact,  and 
within,  the  pilot,  examining  every  section  of  his 
machine,  found  she  had  ridden  the  swelling 
waters  without  damage.  In  a  few  minutes^  he 
had  her  ready  for  action. 

Once  Jimmy  had  interrupted  the  work  by 
declaring  he  had  heard  a  sound  of  oars  in  the 
distance.  Turner,  pricking  up  his  ears,  noticed 
nothing  but  wind  and  splashing  water. 

"  Wind,  my  boy,  can  make  you  think  you  hear 
almost  anything  on  a  dark  night.  Get  in  here 
and  forget  your  nerves,"  was  all  the  satisfac- 
tion he  gave  the  detective. 

Silently,  Jimmy  climbed  aboard. 

The  lad  in  place,  the  pilot  started  his  motor. 
Swiftly  the  boat  glided  out  into  the  night. 
Guided  partly  by  his  instruments  and  partly  by 
instinct  acquired  by  long  experience,  Turner 
headed  her  boldly  due  south,  let  her  skim  the 
waters  for  a  space,  then  took  a  flying  leap  of 
something  over  half  a  mile,  and  before  Jimmy 
had  time  to  take  full  stock  of  the  flying  sensa- 


At  Cape  Peril  173 

tion,  he  felt  the  spray  on  his  face  and  knew  that 
the  boat  was  once  again  cleaving  the  water. 

"  Now,"  shouted  the  pilot.  "  Nearly  there! 
Now  for  a  place  to  anchor." 

Swift  maneuvering  brought  the  ship  athwart 
the  shore-line,  vaguely  visible  in  the  gloom. 

Jimmy  was  almost  too  excited  by  the  experi- 
ence just  past  to  think  of  any  perils  ahead.  A 
journey  —  even  such  a  brief  one  —  in  a  flying 
ship  by  night  would  have  thrilled  any  youngster. 

"  Now,"  directed  Turner  when  the  anchor 
was  cast  and  the  boat  tipped  the  sand.  "  Out, 
quick  as  you  can  make  it.  Hold  tight  to  the  axe. 
Don't  drop  that,  for  heaven's  sake!  " 

"  Reckon  any  crook  will  smash  the  ship  while 
we're  gone?  "  the  boy  asked  as  they  ploughed 
through  the  sand. 

"I'm  not  reckoning  anything.  You  follow 
me." 

The  two  made  their  way  stealthily  from  the 
lake  through  the  sand  path  up  to  the  mound, 
pausing  from  time  to  time  to  listen  for  suspicious 
noises  amid  the  howling  of  the  tempest.  Before 
them  in  the  gloom  the  lighthouse  loomed  like  a 
weird  and  gigantic  phantom.  Jimmy,  fighting 


174  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

% 

off  any  rising  nervousness,  felt  his  heart  pound- 
ing against  his  ribs  as  he  followed  his  resolute 
guide  up  the  slope.  On  the  summit  of  the  sand- 
hill, Turner  paused  again  to  reconnoiter,  his 
pistol  ready  for  action.  Then  he  pushed  on  to 
the  door.  He  tried  to  open  it  but  it  refused 
to  budge.  His  first  impulse  was  to  yell  for 
Buffum.  His  next  to  go  for  the  fishermen. 
He  dismissed  both  thoughts.  He  no  longer 
hesitated  what  he  should  do. 

11  Here,  the  axe,"  he  whispered  to  Jimmy,  as 
he  thrust  his  pistol  into  its  holster.  "  Stand 
away  while  I  smash  the  door  in  and  stay  there 
till  I  call  you." 

Under  a  few  pounding  blows,  the  door  yielded 
and  crashed  open. 

"  Be  careful,"  he  whispered  once  more  in 
Jimmy's  ear  as  he  made  ready  to  enter.  "  Stay 
where  you  are  till  I  whistle,  you  understand; 
then  come  in." 

Leaping  ahead,  Turner  dropped  his  axe  within 
the  doorway  and  flashed  his  light,  his  right 
hand  holding  the  pistol  with  perfect  steadiness. 
A  glance  assured  him  that  the  brick  paved,  circu- 
lar room,  bare  as  a  vault,  was  free  of  lurkers. 


At  Cape  Peru  175 

Then  he  softly  called  up  the  stair,  «'  Cap'n 
Buffum!  " 

With  tense  ears  he  listened.  A  slight  noise, 
the  mere  ghost  of  a  scraping  sound,  attracted 
his  notice.  Again  he  called.  This  time  the  same 
scraping,  scratching  sound  followed,  a  shade 
more  distinct. 

Casting  aside  all  thought  of  danger  to  him- 
self, Turner  thrust  his  flash-light  into  his 
pocket  and,  revolver  advanced,  began  to  grope 
his  way  up  the  pitch-black  stair,  stealthily  as 
an  Indian,  fully  aware  that  he  might  receive  a 
bullet  at  any  moment.  Up,  up  he  crept  until 
his  left  hand  felt  the  floor  of  the  upper  room. 
Then  he  listened  for  a  brief  moment.  Again,  the 
scratching  sound,  louder  and  more  insistent. 
His  keen  ear  had  located  its  direction  to  the 
inch.  He  bounded  up  the  last  steps,  and  snatch- 
ing out  his  flash-light,  held  it  at  arm's  length 
shooting  its  ray  straight  at  the  noise,  his  pistol 
ready  for  instant  action.  There,  revealed  by  the 
ray,  was  a  form  bound  hand  and  foot,  roped 
to  the  great  chair,  and  with  eyes  bandaged  and 
a  gag  in  the  mouth.  It  was  Cap'n  Buffum. 

By  a  desperate  effort,  the  captive  had  managed 


176  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

to  strain  and  stir  his  chair  a'' few  inches  and 
thus  create  the  mysterious  sound  that  the  Tar- 
heel had  heard. 

"  This  is  Turner,"  called  out  the  rescuer  in 
a  low  tone,  "  Is  the  man  who  did  this  upstairs?  " 
he  took  time  to  ask  as  he  advanced. 

The  head  shook  a  feeble  negative. 

Flashing  his  light,  Turner's  first  act  was  to 
survey  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  room, 
moving  with  swift  steps.  Then  he  rushed  to  the 
head  of  the  stairway,  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  and 
lighted  the  way  for  the  plucky  Jimmy  as  the 
lad  bounded  up  the  stairs. 

"  Hold  the  light,"  he  commanded.  "It's 
Cap'n  Buffum  knotted  up.  Here  —  here." 

The  lad  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance. 

Instantly  the  man  set  nimbly  to  work  to  release 
the  captive.  He  snatched  the  handkerchief  from 
the  eyes  that  stared  out  in  a  mute  and  pathetic 
gratitude.  Then  he  succeeded  in  extracting  the 
gag. 

"  The  light!  My  light!  Bill  Perkins!  "  were 
the  words  that  came  feebly  from  the  throat. 
Then  the  eyes  closed ;  the  lips  and  face  blanched ; 
the  old  man  had  fainted. 


At  Cape  Peril  177 

Without  a  word,  Turner  worked  like  a  demon 
with  his  knife  to  sever  the  cords  that  cut  into 
the  wrists  and  ankles  and  those  that  bound  the 
prisoner  to  the  chair. 

"  Some  sailor  did  this,"  he  muttered  as  he 
slashed  the  hemp.  Freed  of  his  bonds,  Cap'n 
Buifum  revived  for  the  moment,  passed  his 
hand  over  his  brow,  and  started  up;  but  his 
feeble  knees  gave  way  and  he  would  have  sagged 
to  the  floor  if  Turner  and  Jimmy  had  not  sup- 
ported him. 

"  Get  him  to  the  bed,"  commanded  Turner. 

A  moment  later  the  limp  burden  was  stretched 
out  on  the  cot,  and  the  Tarheel  had  located  and 
was  lighting  the  lamp. 

"  Quick,  water,"  he  cried  to  Jimmy,  at  the 
same  time  pointing  to  the  washstand.  Jimmy, 
seizing  the  pitcher,  began  to  lave  the  wan  face, 
while  Turner,  snatching  a  flask  of  stimulant 
from  the  cupboard,  forced  a  liberal  dose  down 
the  old  man's  throat. 

In  a  few  moments  the  closed  eyelids  opened. 
"  Where  am  I?  "  he  asked,  light-headedly. 

"  You're  all  right.  Just  a  little  faint,"  encour- 
aged Turner,  leaning  over  him.  "  It's  Turner 


178  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

and  one  of  the  boys  with  you.     Easy,  now!  " 

The  old  man's  fingers  began  to  pluck  nervously 
at  the  buttons  of  his  coat.  "  My  light!  My 
light!  "  he  whispered  as  recollection  dawned  on 
him  once  more. 

"  Listen,"  Turner  said  earnestly.  "  Don't 
worry.  I've  set  fire  to  a  shack  on  the  shore  — 
you  know  Thompson's  old  cottage  —  so  there's 
no  danger  to  ships.  Cheer  up  now,  and  tell  us 
how  it  happened  when  you  feel  a  little  stronger. ' ' 

The  words  had  their  effect. 

"  You  done  that?  You  throwed  out  the  life- 
belt. Lemme  see  it,  mate." 

To  humor  him,  Turner  lifted  him  so  he  could 
see  the  glow  through  the  window. 

"  You  done  it,  mate,  and  to  think  my  light 
ain't  never  been  out  befo'.  'Twar  that  scum 
Bill  Perkins  that  tied  me  and  smashed  my  light, 
and—" 

What  the  Cap'n  was  about  to  add  was  inter- 
rupted by  sounds  without.  Turner  rushed  to 
the  window  and  was  able  to  distinguish  a  group 
of  men,  with  lanterns  swinging  in  the  wind,  a 
party  from  the  fishing  settlement.  There  was 
a  rush  for  the  stairs  and  the  men  thronged  into 


At  Cape  Peril  179 

the  room.  Anxious  questions  and  a  babble  of 
speculations  filled  the  air;  it  was  some  minutes 
before  the  crowd  could  be  sufficiently  calmed  to 
listen  to  Buffum's  story. 

"  My  heart  near  cracked  them  two  hours  I  war 
tied  up  a-thinking  about  my  light  bein'  out,"  he 
moaned.  "  That  thar  fire  won't  last  till  day." 
he  added  with  a  sudden  attack  of  dismay. 

"  Listen  here,  Cap'n,"  put  in  one  of  the 
fishermen,  "  soon  as  you  tell  us  yo'  tale  I'll  go 
up  and  fire  a  shanty  near  the  settlement.  That  '11 
keep  goin*  till  daybreak  that  ain't  far  off. 
Tomorrow  a  lightship  will  come  down.  Tain't 
no  use  to  worry." 

The  words  seemed  to  put  more  life  into  the 
old  man,  and  he  launched  off  on  his  story. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
CAP'N  BUFFUM'S  REVELATIONS 

"  'Twar  Bill  Perkins  what  done  it!  " 

"  Bill  Perkins!  "  echoed  several  of  the  group 
gruffly.  "  Who  is  he?  We'll  get  him!  " 

"  You  recollec'  the  party  I  tol'  you  I  fit  the 
duel  with  thirty  year  ago?  "  asked  the  Cap'n, 
looking  at  Turner.  "  And  I  tol'  them  boys 
about  it,  too,"  he  added,  nodding  at  Jimmy. 

"  You  saw  the  man,  then,  and  know  him?  " 
Turner  demanded  excitedly. 

"  No,  I  ain't  seen  him  this  time,  but  I  know 
'twar  Bill  Perkins." 

One  fisherman  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead 
and  made  a  wheellike  movement,  giving,  at  the 
same  time,  a  knowing  glance  at  a  neighbor. 

"  That's  that  'ar  stuff  he  took  that's  talkin' 
—  that  ain't  him,"  was  his  inference. 

"  He  didn't  tie  hisself  up,  that's  sho'," 
replied  the  other,  picking  up  a  piece  of  the  rope. 

The  thought  of  Perkins  had  choked  the  utter- 
ance of  the  Cap'n  for  a  moment.  Then  he  went 

180 


At  Cape  Peril  181 

on,  "  Yes,  'twar  him  we  saw  on  the  beach 
yestiddy." 

"  That  stranger  —  the  one  in  the  oilskins?  " 
asked  Turner,  starting,  while  a  stir  occurred 
among  the  fishermen. 

"  It  war  him,"  insisted  the  old  man  promptly. 

"  I  suspicioned  that  man  o'  some  devilment 
soon  as  I  seen  him  prowlin'  around,"  declared 
one  fisherman. 

"  But  we'll  get  him  as  soon  as  day  come  on," 
said  another  hotly,  ' '  and  when  we  ketch  him !  ' ' 

He  added  a  significant  gesture. 

"  Now,  Cap'n  Buffum,"  encouraged  Turner, 
"  tell  us  how  it  all  happened,  in  order.  Stop  if 
you  feel  excited.  Take  your  time." 

"  'Twar  this  way,"  began  the  old  man,  catch- 
ing his  breath,  and  talking  in  panting  phrases. 
11  After  I  eat  my  supper  and  dark  war  comin' 
on,  I  goes  up  to  start  the  light,  and  seen  every- 
thing was  shipshape  and  cosy,  fer  I  knowed  if 
thar  ever  war  a  night  when  a  light  war  needed, 
this  war  the  time.  Then  I  come  down  and  set 
a  while.  Then,  thinks  I  to  myself,  I'll  go  ashore 
and  limber  up  my  legs  and  take  a  look  at  that 
nasty  sea  good  and  close,  and  down  I  walks.  I 


182  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

own  it,  mates,  I  ain't  locked  the*  do'  after  me, 
sence  it  never  come  in  my  head  no  critter  would 
sneak  in  to  do  no  mischief.  Off  I  goes  and  stays 
down  thar  a-watchin'  that  grumpy  sea  and 
a-lookin'  fer  twenty  minutes,  it  might  be,  and 
then  I  turns  in  agin,  and  locks  the  do'  and  goes 
up  fer  another  mindin'  of  my  light." 

"  Sure  you  didn't  see  anybody  suspicious 
hanging  around  outside?  "  Turner  put  in. 

"  Nary  a  soul  has  I  seen  except  that  Hank 
Thomas  thar  over  by  the  settlement,  and  I  ain't 
considerin'  him  suspicious." 

Hank,  present,  becoming  the  center  of  interest, 
turned  very  red  and  began  to  mutter.  His  com- 
panions' glances,  however,  were  cast  in  jest 
rather  than  in  earnest. 

"  I  went  up  to  mind  the  light,"  proceeded 
Buffum,  "  and  then  I  come  down  and  set  by 
my  lamp,  and  my  rheumatism  bein'  worse  fer 
walkin'  on  my  legs,  I  took  some  painkiller  to 
ease  'em." 

At  this  several  fishermen  winked  at  one 
another. 

"  And  then  I  did  a  thing  I  ain't  never  recollec' 
doin'  befo'.  I  dozes  off  in  my  chair." 


At  Cape  Peril  183 

Despite  the  suspense,  this  innocent  statement 
aroused  a  general  grin,  for  nearly  every  person 
present,  at  one  time  or  another,  had  found  the 
lighthouse  keeper  fast  asleep  in  his  accustomed 
seat. 

"  I  must  have  been  nappin'  fifteen  min- 
utes— "  he  went  on. 

"  Say,  Cap'n,  how  long  you  think  your  light's 
been  out?  "  interrupted  a  fisherman. 

"  Sumpin'  like  two  hours  as  fer  as  I  kin  cal- 
kerlate,  mates,  sence  I  war  tied  up  and  heard 
that  scum  smash  the  light." 

"  Eight  after  dark  you  fell  off?  "  persisted 
the  questioner. 

"  Right  after  dark  it  war." 

11  What  happened  those  other  two  or  three 
hours?  "  Turner  took  up  the  quizzing. 

11  Maybe  it  war  more'n  fifteen  minutes  I  war' 
sleep.  Maybe  it  war."  conceded  the  Cap'n,  "  or 
maybe  it  war  more'n  two  hours  sense  the  devil 
lit  on  me." 

Turner  and  the  others,  raising  no  further 
objection  to  the  misfit  in  time,  allowed  the  old 
man  to  go  on. 

"  As  I  war  sayin',  after  I  had  been    'sleep 


184  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

fifteen  minutes,  or  maybe  mo ',  I  wpked  a-sudden, 
feelin'  a  rope  coilin'  roun'  and  roun'  me  same 
as  a  sarpint;  and,  befo'  I  could  bat  a  lid,  mates, 
I  war  lashed  tight  in  that  thar  chair.  I  never 
knowed  such  quick  work  as  that  varmint  done. 
I  yells,  but  it  ain't  done  no  good;  and  what  I  let 
out  I  ain't  got  no  way  o'  knowing  fer  thar  is 
times  when  a  man's  words  ain't  come  from  his 
senses." 

"  And  you  didn't  see  the  man!  "  Turner  asked 
quietly. 

"  I  couldn't,  mates.  He  war  behind  me,  and 
I  war  tied  stiff  as  a  corpse  befo'  I  knowed  it, 
and  one  twis'  o*  that  thar  rope  war  roun'  my 
neck." 

"  And  you  claim  it  was  a  man  you  knew  as 
Bill  Perkins!  " 

"  Bill  Perkins  it  war  that  I  hadn't  seen  befo' 
fer  thirty  year." 

"  And  you  didn't  see  him  this  time!  "  insisted 
Turner. 

"  Let  the  Cap'n  talk,"  growled  a  longshore- 
man. "  You  can't  tell  a  yarn  straight  when 
you're  pestered  by  a  felluh  tryin*  to  twis' 
sumpin'  out  o'  you  like  a  pesky  lawyer." 


At  Cape  Peril  185 

Turner  flushed,  but  kept  out  of  a  dispute. 

"  When  I  war  tied  that-a-way,"  went  on  the 
old  man,  "  I  knowed  it  war  a  sailor  that  turned 
the  trick,  that's  what  I  knowed  fust." 

Turner  nodded  in  approval  of  his  own  sus- 
picions along  this  line. 

11  I  tried  to  turn  my  head,  but,  quick  as  light- 
ning, a  hand  slip  roun'  my  bandanna  handker- 
chief, and  though  I  jerk  my  derndest  he  got  it 
over  my  eyes;  but,  mates,  befo'  he  done  that 
thing,  I  seed  a  fist  on  my  larboard  side,  and 
'twar  his'n.  I'd  a  knowed  that  claw  if  I'd  a 
seen  it  hangin'  on  a  monkey-tree  in  Africky. 
'Twar  Bill  Perkins's." 

At  the  harrowing  thought,  the  Cap'n  paused 
to  recover  from  his  emotion,  and  demanded 
another  draft  of  his  medicine. 

"  Bill  Perkins,"  he  continued,  apparently 
refreshed,  "  had  two  claws  on  his  left  handle. 
They  warn't  no  longer  than  the  first  joint;  his 
fingers  warn't  never  cut  off;  he  come  into  the 
world  that  way,  fer  them  stumps  had  a  nail 
growin'  on  the  end  o'  each  of  'em.  'Twar  Bill 
Perkins's  left  I  seen.  One  second  I  seen  it,  but 
in  that  second  I  knowed.  And  I  felt  a  burnin' 


186  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

feel  I  ain't  never  felt  so  powerful  ^since  that  'ar 
duel.  But  I  ain't  tried  to  call  his  name  fer,  if 
he'd  a  knowed  'twar  me,  he'd  a  killed  me  cold- 
blooded on  the  spot  —  that  ornery  critter  would 
'a  done  it." 

"  Look  here,  Cap'n,"  put  in  the  doubting 
Turner  once  more.  "  Why  couldn't  somebody 
else  have  had  a  hand  like  that?  " 

"  Nobody  but  the  Old  Scratch.  Blister  my 
boots,  thar  ain't  no  other  hand  like  it  created." 

To  humor  the  old  man,  Turner  did  not  insist 
on  this  doubt,  but  nevertheless  put  another 
query,  "  If  this  was  your  Bill  Perkins — " 

"  He  ain't  no  Bill  Perkins  o'  mine!  "  exploded 
the  Cap'n. 

"  I  mean,"  corrected  Turner,  smiling.  "  If 
this  was  Bill  Perkins,  why  hasn't  he  found  out 
you  were  the  Buffum  he  knew,  while  he's  been 
prowling  around  here?  " 

"  He  never  would  'a  knowed  no  Buffum," 
explained  the  old  man,  "  because,  when  I  fust 
shipped  to  sea,  I  warn't  Bill  Buffum  no  longer. 
To  make  my  old  daddy  easy  I  called  myself  out 
o'  my  name.  I  war  Jim  Happer  to  all  who 
knowed  me  aboard  ship.  That  war  the  name 


At  Cape  Peril  187 

Perkins  heard  me  called  the  month  he  war  on 
ship  with  me.'* 

"  I  see,"  said  the  questioner,  apparently  satis- 
fied with  the  explanation. 

"  I  warn't  tellin'  him  who  I  war  after  I  seen 
that  hand,  but  I  war  spittin'  and  sputterin'  good 
and  hearty  when  he  stuck  that  thar  dirty  rag  in 
my  mouth  till  he  cut  off  my  holluh  instantaneous. 
I  ain't  seen  nor  speak  nothin'  mo',  but  I  hed  my 
feelin'  lef ',  mates,  and  my  hearin'  were  thar.  He 
twist  my  wrist  and  my  legs  till  the  cut  hurt  so 
hard  I  ain't  felt  the  rheumatism  on  account  of 
that  other  misery  killin'  it  off  by  bein'  so  mighty. 
He  lashed  me  up,  mates,  and  then  my  heart  turn 
turtle  and  crack  and  my  stummick  raise  a  billy- 
hoo  when  I  hear  him  go  up  and  bus'  the  light. 
He  stove  it  to  smithereens,  thar  warn't  no  mis- 
takin'  that  thar  sound,  thar  warn't." 

"  Did  the  scoundrel  hang  around  after  that?  " 
coaxed  Turner. 

"  Right  away  he  went  as  soon  as  he  done  that 
dirty  deed.  I  heard  his  steps  a-sneakin'  down 
from  aloft;  he  comes  through  this  room  and  then 
I  hear  him  start  to  go  below,  but  he  stumbled 
and  fell;  then  howls  and  cusses  low,  but  it  ain't 


188  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

kilt  him,  fer  five  minutes  later  I  hear  the  out- 
door lock.  I  heard  it  plain  as  I  hears  you  now. 
Then,  hyuh  I  set  all  this  time  a-sufferin'  what  I 
I  ain't  suffered  befo'  and,  with  that  howlin'  wind 
in  my  years,  a-killin'  my  brain  to  know  what 
war  happenin'  on  them  wicked  shoals.  Ain't  no 
signal  of  distress  been  seen?  " 

"  Best  easy,  Cap'n,"  assured  Turner.  "  No 
ship's  in  trouble."  So  saying,  the  speaker  made 
a  warning  sign  to  the  rest  of  the  group. 

More  questions  were  put  by  various  members 
of  the  group,  but  no  more  definite  information 
could  be  extracted.  Then  it  was  voted  that  the 
time  for  action  had  come.  Several  went  upstairs 
to  inspect  the  damage;  others  by  the  light  of 
their  lanterns  examined  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood for  footprints  or  other  evidence  of  the 
criminal. 

Turner  and  Jimmy  joined  first  one  and  then 
another  of  the  exploring  parties ;  but  it  was  soon 
evident  that  in  the  darkness  nothing  was  to  be 
expected,  so  man  and  boy  decided  the  wiser 
course  was  to  remain  quietly  with  the  Cap'n 
till  the  first  sign  of  dawn. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CAT  FINDS  A  KEY 

When  Cat  looked  out  after  Turner  and  Jimmy 
disappearing  in  the  darkness,  he  had  to  swallow 
a  pretty  bitter  pill. 

"  Tough  when  a  fellow's  got  the  pep,  not 
to  have  a  chance  to  show  it,"  he  grumbled  to 
himself. 

Then,  like  the  good  loser  he  had  always  been, 
he  began  to  soothe  his  feelings  with  common- 
sense  reflections.  Turner,  it  was  clear,  had 
some  reason  for  wanting  the  smaller  lad,  and 
an  addition  to  the  party  might  be  a  drawback. 
It's  pretty  hard  luck,  however,  to  be  left  in  a 
lonesome  house  when  your  chum  is  out  running 
his  nose  into  all  sorts  of  exciting  adventure. 

"  Well,  I  can  eat  anyhow,"  he  consoled  him- 
self, and  taking  advantage  of  Hardy's  invita- 
tion to  the  guests  to  forage  in  the  pantry  when- 
ever appetite  moved  them,  he  managed  to  find 
and  stow  away  a  choice  assortment  of  cake, 
pickles  and  crab-apples. 

189 


190  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Thus  bucked  up  with  nourishment,  he  went 
upstairs  and  gazed  out  of  the  window  in  the 
direction  of  the  lighthouse.  In  a  few  minutes, 
the  expected  light  shone  from  the  window,  a 
mere  ghost  of  a  glimmer,  but  it  told  its  tale. 

"  Gee!  "  thought  the  watcher,  with  a  relieved 
sigh.  "  They're  there,  and  I  reckon  every- 
thing's all  right,  except  maybe  old  Buffum's 
sick  or  —  dead.  But  dang  it  all,  I  do  wish  I 
could  have  had  a  night  ride  in  the  seaplane! 
That  shark  stuff  wouldn't  be  in  it." 

Satisfied  in  his  mind  that  his  friends  had 
safely  reached  their  objective,  the  lad  ran  to 
the  other  end  of  the  passage  to  take  a  look  north- 
ward. In  the  distance  a  bright  glow  still  illu- 
minated the  darkness,  but  it  was  evident  that  the 
roof  of  the  ruin  had  already  collapsed  and  that 
the  blaze  was  slowly  sinking  to  the  smouldering 
embers. 

Next  he  hurried  down  to  the  porch  to  scan 
the  sea  for  rockets.  No  spark  of  signal  fire  was 
to  be  seen;  but  from  the  lighthouse  still  shone 
the  feeble  light. 

"  B'lieve  I'll  read  till  they  come,"  he  said, 
turning  indoors  again. 


At  Cape  Peril  191 

The  Indian  book,  left  on  the  table  by  Turner, 
attracted  his  attention.  He  settled  himself  in  a 
chair  by  the  light  and,  turning  the  pages  at  ran- 
dom, came  to  a  passage  that  engaged  his  interest. 
He  started  reading  aloud  to  break  the  monotony : 

"  *  Arrows  are  the  principal  weapons  that 
they  use  in  war  and  in  hunting.  These  arrows 
are  barbed  at  the  tip  with  a  stone,  sharpened 
and  cut  in  the  shape  of  a  serpent's  tongue;  if 
knives  are  lacking,  they  use  arrows  also  for 
flaying  the  animals  which  they  kill.  They  are 
so  adroit  in  bending  the  bow  that  they  scarcely 
ever  miss  their  aim;  and  they  do  this  with  such 
quickness  that  they  will  have  discharged  a 
hundred  arrows  sooner  than  another  person  can 
reload  his  gun.  They  take  little  trouble  to  make 
nets  suitable  for  catching  fish  in  the  rivers, 
because  the  abundance  of  all  kinds  of  animals 
which  they  find  for  their  food  renders  them 
somewhat  indifferent  to  fish. 

"  'However,  when  they  take  a  fancy  to  have 
some,  they  enter  a  canoe  with  their  bow  and 
arrows;  they  stand  up  that  they  may  better  dis- 
cover the  fish;  and,  as  soon  as  they  see  one, 
they  pierce  it  with  an  arrow.' 


192  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

11  Gee!  "  the  reader  paused  to*  remark,  "  I 
didn't  know  that,  but,  by  golly!  they  haven't 
got  much  on  our  shark  hunt  with  that  stunt 
we  pulled  off  this  morning." 

Turning  to  another  page,  he  read  on: 

"  '  When  they  have  escaped  any  great  danger 
by  sea  or  land,  or  have  returned  from  war,  in 
token  of  joy  they  make  a  great  fire  about  which 
the  men  and  women  sit  together,  holding  in  their 
hands  a  fruit  like  a  pumpkin  or  a  gourd,  which, 
after  they  have  taken  out  the  fruit  and  the 
seeds,  they  fill  with  small  stones  or  big  kernels 
to  make  the  more  noise,  and  fastening  that  upon 
a  stick,  they  sing  to  its  accompaniment  and 
make  merry.' 

"  Wish  Indians  or  something  else  was  around 
to  stir  up  a  little  excitement.  Darn  if  I'd  care 
whether  it  was  merry  or  not,  just  so  it  was 
noise,"  sighed  the  lone  watcher,  shutting  the 
book  with  a  slam  and  tossing  it  onto  the  table. 
"  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,''  he  continued. 
"  I'm  going  down  to  meet  Jimmy  and  Turner, 
that's  what  I'm  going  to  do." 

No  sooner  was  it  thought  than  acted  upon. 
After  providing  himself  with  a  flash-light  from 


At  Cape  Peril  193 

Hardy's  belongings,  he  hurried  out,  locking  the 
door  after  him  and  pocketing  the  key.  More 
stars  were  now  shining,  and,  without  assistance 
from  his  pocket  light,  he  made  his  way  to  Lake 
Herring,  pausing  at  times  to  listen  for  any 
possible  suspicious  sound. 

Near  the  shore  a  distinct  clanking  struck  his 
ear,  but  shooting  his  light,  he  discovered  nothing 
more  exciting  than  the  chain  of  a  wave-rocked 
rowboat  attached  to  a  post  by  the  bridg  of  the 
hangar.  The  oars,  their  blades  wet,  lay  across 
the  seats. 

«  Why  not  take  the  boat,"  thought  the  boy 
to  himself,  "  and  row  on  over  to  Cape  Peril?  " 

"  No,"  objected  his  conscience,  "  you  can't 
do  it.  You've  got  your  orders." 

"Gosh  a  Moses!  Somebody's  been  using  it 
already,"  was  the  lad's  conclusion  on  a  closer 
inspection  of  the  boat.  Then  it  occurred  to 
him  that  the  waves  splashing  over  the  sides 
had  caused  the  soaking. 

Suspicion  of  trespassers  out  of  his  mind,  he 
went  along  the  bridge  and  inspected  the  empty 
hydro  shed.  Then  he  started  back  to  the  shore, 
where  temptation  seized  him  again.  He  climbed 


194  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

into  the  boat  and  began  to  finger  the  oars. 
Presently,  releasing  them,  he  began  to  play  his 
flash-light  around  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
Suddenly  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  dull  object. 
On  closer  observation,  it  proved  to  be  an  unusu- 
ally large  key  of  somewhat  antique  pattern. 

"  Where  in  the  mischief  did  this  come  from?  " 
he  asked  himself  as  he  took  it  in  his  hand. 
"  Looks  like  one  I've  seen  before."  And  then, 
with  a  sudden  flash  of  memory,  "  I  know  I've 
seen  it  before.  It's  the  key  to  the  Cape  Peril 
lighthouse.  If  it's  not,  it  sure  is  powerful 
like  it." 

The  unusual  size  and  make  of  the  lighthouse 
key  had  attracted  the  boy's  attention  on  the 
occasion  of  his  visit  to  Cap'n  Buffum. 

"  By  golly!  that's  funny,"  he  kept  repeating. 
"  How  the  mischief  I  " 

He  turned  the  key  over  and  over  in  his  fin- 
gers, but  the  longer  he  examined  it  the  more  con- 
vinced he  was  of  its  identity  with  the  one  he 
had  noticed  before. 

"Maybe  old  Buffum 's  skipped  —  or  maybe  — 
I  know,  maybe  that  old  woman's  come  and  kid- 
napped him." 


At  Cape  Peril  195 

Both  guesses  were  wild  enough,  but  the  most 
plausible  he  could  hit  on.  He  finally  put  the 
key  into  his  pocket  and  sat  spinning  more 
speculations. 

"  Blame  it!  "  he  exclaimed  after  several  min- 
utes. "  If  Turner  and  Jimmy  don't  hurry  I'm 
going."  His  eyes  turned  northward.  "  And  I 
know  where  I'm  going.  I'm  going  over  and 
take  a  look  at  that  fire." 

Glad  to  get  away  from  any  further  temptation 
to  use  the  boat,  he  acted  on  his  new  impulse  and 
moved  over  to  the  path  leading  to  the  burning 
building.  Jogging  on,  he  had  covered  most  of 
the  way  to  his  goal  when  suddenly  he  gave  a 
start  and  came  to  a  dead  halt.  Not  far  ahead 
of  him  and  just  back  of  the  smouldering  ruin 
he  could  distinctly  see,  lighted  by  the  glow,  a 
human  form  whose  progress  was  so  slow  as 
to  make  it  seem  almost  stationary. 

Who  was  it?  Cap'n  Buffum  was  the  lad's 
first  thought,  but,  as  he  advanced  a  little  farther, 
he  was  convinced  that  the  figure  was  that  of  a 
less  thick-set  person.  Whoever  it  was,  the  dis- 
covery called  for  instant  action.  He  must  get 
a  closer  view  of  the  night  prowler. 


196  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

The  boy  began  to  run  till  he  d^ew  close  to 
the  blaze;  then  he  veered  off,  skirting  the  shore 
just  above  the  surf  line.  Opposite  the  fire,  he 
slipped  up  to  a  sand  hill,  crawled  to  the  top 
and  peered  over. 

The  form,  though  fast  approaching  the  region 
of  shadow,  was  still  visible  in  the  glow,  and  the 
sound  of  crunched  sand  was  distinctly  percepti- 
ble. The  cause  of  the  slow  gait  of  the  stranger 
was  now  apparent. 

"  He's  got  a  game  foot.  Wonder  if  he's  been 
shot,"  was  the  watcher's  thought. 

His  scout  training,  the  obligation  to  go  to  the 
aid  of  the  injured,  first  asserted  itself. 

"  You  bet  I  won't  go  yet,"  was  his  second 
thought.  "  If  he's  all  square,  why  didn't  he 
come  up  to  the  house  for  help?  I'll  lay  low  till 
I  find  out  what  sort  of  bird  he  is.  Gee!  " 

Up  once  more,  the  lad  slipped  along  below 
the  sand  hills  to  a  point  well  beyond  the  glow 
of  the  embers.  Then  he  cautiously  made  his 
way  to  a  higher  point  and  looked  over.  The 
form,  dragging  slowly,  was  still  in  sight. 

"  I'm  going  to  keep  an  eye  on  that  fellow  even 
if  I  run  the  risk  of  a  bullet,"  Cat  declared. 


CHAPTER  XVT 

CAT   IN   AMBUSH 

The  mysterious  prowler  would  be  out  of  the 
firelight  in  a  few  moments  more.  Where  was 
he  going?  That  was  the  question  that  puzzled 
the  lad.  In  the  man's  crippled  condition,  climb- 
ing the  sand  dunes  would  be  an  impossibility. 
Then  Cat  recalled  that  the  path  the  man  was 
following  ended  a  short  distance  beyond  at  its 
point  of  intersection  with  an  inland  road  that 
led  to  the  county  turnpike  some  three  miles 
away  from  the  ocean.  Unless  insane,  the  man 
had  some  objective  in  view,  so  what  could  it 
be  but  the  road?  And,  up  this  road,  there  was 
no  single  habitation  for  half  a  mile's  distance. 
It  would  take  several  hours  to  reach  that  at 
his  present  rate  of  progress. 

"  Must  be  somebody  waiting  for  him  at  the 
road,"  the  boy  concluded.  "I'll  beat  on  up 
the  beach  ahead  of  him  and  lie  hidden  near  the 
head  of  the  road.  The  way  he's  going  now,  it'll 
take  him  fifteen  minutes  to  get  there." 

197 


198  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

There  was  no  danger  of  pursuit  by  a  lame 
man,  and  that  any  damage  could  be  done  by  a 
bullet  fired  in  the  dark  seemed  equally  unrea- 
sonable. Ambush  seemed  a  safe  proposition. 

So  the  boy  slipped  softly  down  to  the  beach 
and,  by  the  dim  starlight,  kept  well  up  out  of 
the  way  of  the  rolling  surf.  Once  the  thought 
came  to  him,  "  How  'bout  it  if  there's  a  gang 
of  crooks  waiting  there!  " 

Then  he  said  to  himself  after  a  moment: 

"I'm  on  my  way  and  I'll  keep  on  my  way; 
that's  Cat  Miller." 

Presently  he  had  reached  a  point  recognizable 
by  landmarks  as  just  opposite  the  meeting  place 
of  the  inland  extending  road  and  the  path  that 
skirted  the  coast.  Climbing  up  the  bank,  the 
boy  stretched  himself  out  and  lay  with  head 
cautiously  raised  and  ears  alert.  In  case  of  any 
alarm,  he  knew  he  could  slip  down  the  bank 
and  make  off  without  difficulty  in  the  darkness. 
The  wind,  sweeping  over  him,  had  little  chill 
to  it.  He  could  stand  that  indefinitely. 

He  looked  back  in  the  direction  of  the  slowly 
dying  glow  and  listened.  For  ten  minutes,  per- 
haps, he  heard  nothing.  Then  suddenly,  borne 


At  Cape  Peril  199 

on  the  sweeping  wind,  a  sound,  very,  very  faint 
—  the  sound  of  sand  crunched  under  a 
boot.  With  head  raised  higher,  he  waited 
expectantly  until  he  was  sure  he  detected  a  dark 
shadow  moving  along  the  lighter  background. 
All  of  a  sudden  the  sound  of  footfalls  ceased 
and  a  groan  came  in  its  place. 

"  Gee!  he  must  be  hurt  bad,"  thought  the  lad. 
11  Can't  help  it.  I'll  watch  on." 

Once  more  the  sound  of  grating  sand  was 
heard;  the  stranger  was  moving.  Very  slowly 
he  dragged  along  till  he  had  reached  a  point 
just  in  front  of  his  watcher;  then,  after  a  short 
pause  and  another  groan,  his  footsteps  seemed 
to  be  slowly  retreating.  Cat  ducked  as  a  search- 
light flashed  and  he  fidgeted  in  spite  of  himself. 
The  man  was  evidently  just  getting  his  bearings. 

In  the  lad's  excitement,  he  kept  crawling 
nearer  and  nearer  the  road  head,  worming  along 
on  his  stomach  as  soldiers  do  in  battle  under 
shell  fire.  His  curiosity  was  overpowering  his 
discretion. 

A  few  feet  from  the  road  the  boy  stopped, 
raised  himself  on  his  hands,  and  looked.  The 
man,  flashing  his  light  at  intervals,  was  still 


200  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

moving  away  from  him.  Then  ihe  light  was 
flashed  straight  ahead  and  the  rear  of  a  motor 
car  was  clearly  in  view. 

"  I  see,'*  said  the  boy,  almost  disappointed. 
"  That's  his  game,  is  it?  Wonder  how  many 
crooks  there  are  in  it." 

But  no  sound  of  voices  reached  him. 

"  Must  be  whispering,"  he  conjectured. 

Presently  the  watcher  started,  with  throbbing 
heart,  as  another  sound,  the  faint  put-put  of  a 
distant  motor,  reached  his  ears. 

Meanwhile,  the  man,  who  was  examining  his 
machine,  had  caught  the  sound  also.  He  turned 
his  head  as  if  to  listen  and  Cat  was  able  to 
get  a  brief  glimpse  of  two  horror-stricken  eyes 
in  a  haggard  face.  It  was  a  flash-light  picture 
of  agony. 

The  noise  of  the  oncoming  motor  increased. 
Over  a  sandhill  glowed  the  headlight  of  the 
approaching  car.  The  man,  apparently  despair- 
ing of  getting  his  engine  started  in  time,  had 
scurried  off  the  road.  Cat  heard  a  vague  sound 
as  of  a  body  rolling  down  a  slope. 

The  boy  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  glow  of  the 
moving  car,  coming  at  a  moderate  speed  around 


At  Cape  Peril  201 

the  point  where  the  road  curved  to  avoid  a 
sand  mound.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  crash,  a 
sound  of  shattered  glass,  followed  by  noisy 
exclamations  and  then  complete  darkness.  The 
chauffeur,  not  seeing  the  stationary  car  in  time, 
had  gone  full  tilt  into  one  corner  of  it.  A 
moment  later  a  search-light  flashed. 

"  What  the  mischief  is  this?  "  he  heard  the 
voice  of  the  man  who  had  jumped  from  the 
car  say.  Then  were  was  a  hum  of  voices. 

"  Lucky  we  had  the  heavier  car,  light  as  it  is," 
another  voice  remarked. 

"  Wonder  who  in  the  mischief  left  a  car  stand- 
ing out  here  without  the  sign  of  a  light. 
Smashed  the  dickens  out  of  his  windshield  and 
twisted  his  axle  and  fender,  I  see.  We  got  off 
pretty  easy." 

"  Suppose  it  could  be  the  detective's  car?  " 
asked  the  man  who  had  first  spoken. 

Cat,  in  a  flutter  of  excitement,  had  been  try- 
ing to  catch  every  word  of  the  dialogue.  At 
the  last  speech,  he  gave  a  start;  he  had  recog- 
nized the  voice. 

"  Sure  you  didn't  get  any  glass  back  there?  " 
he  heard  the  same  voice  remark. 


202  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  No,  you  bet  I'm  all  right,"  came  back  in  a 
youthful  tone. 

"  Don't  see  anybody  hanging  around?  "  said 
the  familiar  man's  voice. 

"  Not  a  soul,"  was  the  answer.  "  Keep  your 
hand  on  your  gun." 

Cat,  eager  to  call,  lay  still  for  fear  of  getting 
a  bullet  before  he  was  recognized. 

"  Say,  you'll  camp  by  the  machine,  won't  you, 
while  I  take  this  boy  up  to  the  house?  " 

Cat  glided  back  rapidly  and  slipped  down  the 
bank  until  he  felt  himself  protected  from  a  hasty 
bullet.  Then  he  yelled :  "  Hardy!  Hardy!  It's 
Cat.  It's  Gat  Miller,  don't  shoot!" 

He  had  recognized  two  of  the  three  voices  as 
those  of  Hardy  and  Legs  Hatton. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HAEDY  STRIKES  A  HOT  TKAIL 

The  morning  of  the  day  before,  when  Hardy 
had  got  the  peevish  doctor  in  place  and  had 
taken  his  own  seat  in  the  airplane,  he  steered 
his  bird  off  from  Roanoke  Island  in  what,  by 
no  stretch  of  fancy,  could  be  called  flying- 
weather.  The  wind  was  freshening  to  a  gale  and 
the  waters  of  the  Sound  were  choppy  and  ugly- 
looking.  But,  even  if  the  pilot  had  to  play  hide 
and  seek  in  the  storm-clouds,  the  emergency 
admitted  of  no  hesitation,  and,  after  all,  it  was 
merely  a  question  of  a  very  few  minutes '  flying. 
So  the  venturesome  airman  gritted  his  teeth, 
clamped  his  rod,  and  with  the  machine  swaying 
to  and  fro  in  the  sweep  and  swelter  and  with 
wings  at  times  perilously  tipped,  plunged  into 
the  teeth  of  the  tempest. 

As  Windjammer  approached  the  sea,  the  going 
became  more  and  more  hazardous;  but  the 
inevitable  luck  of  the  pilot  warranted  his  confi- 
dence. He  soon  hovered  over  his  goal,  and,  after 


204  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

some  maneuvering,  the  staggering  feat  was 
done.  Under  heavy  pressure,  he  landed  on  the 
bleak  coast  in  full  view  of  the  heaving  ocean. 

The  danger  over,  Smith,  the  passenger, 
jumped  from  his  seat  with  the  change  of  counte- 
nance of  a  man  risen  from  the  dead.  He  evi- 
dently thought  that  for  the  rest  of  his  life  he 
would  be  living  on  borrowed  time  after  what 
he  had  just  been  through.  He  recovered  him- 
self sufficiently,  however,  to  lend  his  aid  to  Hardy 
in  sheltering  the  flyer  from  the  wind  and  threat- 
ening rain.  Then  the  two  proceeded  to  the 
lighthouse. 

The  wireless  operator  of  the  Kitty  Hawk 
Station,  who  was  in  temporary  charge,  bubbled 
over  with  delight  on  seeing  the  new  arrivals. 
The  regular  keeper  had  been  removed  to  his 
home  in  a  serious  condition,  he  reported  with 
a  wealth  of  detail. 

The  doctor  hurried  off  to  his  patient. 

"  Just  given  you  up,"  he  pursued,  "  and  was 
looking  for  one  deuce  of  a  time.  What  with  a 
storm  roaring  and  bellowing,  and  the  chance 
of  my  apparatus  being  blown  to  kingdom  come, 
I  wasn't  feeling  very  jimmy." 


At  Cape  Peril  205 

"  I  know  you  weren't,"  agreed  Hardy. 

"  And,  by  the  way,"  continued  the  operator, 
"  about  two  hours  ago,  just  before  my  machine 
broke  down,  I  picked  up  a  message  for  Sea- 
gulls' Nest." 

"  You  did?  Let's  have  it  quick,"  said  Hardy 
eagerly,  turning  his  head  in  order  to  listen  with 
greater  sharpness  to  the  answer. 

"  It  was  from  Commodore  Hatton.  Said  he 
was  passing  and  wouldn't  be  able  to  stop.  He 
was  trying  to  beat  the  gale  and  put  into  Hamp- 
ton Roads.  Important  business  was  hurrying 
him." 

"  Where  you  s'pose  the  yacht  is  by  this 
time?  "  demanded  the  pilot  as  the  other  paused. 

"  Judging  by  what  they  said  when  they  spoke 
to  us,  the  boat  was  then  right  off  this  point;  so 
it  must  be  well  up  the  coast  by  now." 

"  Don't  think  he'll  have  any  trouble  making 
his  port?  " 

"  Ought  not  to.  And  see  here,  there  was  a 
message  for  us  here,  too.  He  had  expected  to 
stop  in  the  Sound  to  report  on  that  suspicious 
case — " 

"  Suspicious  case?     What  suspicious  case?  " 


206  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

insisted  Hardy  with  breathless  interest. 

"  I  thought  you'd  got  wind  of  that.  That 
drowning." 

1 '  Drowning !    Who  ?    Where  T  ' ' 

"  We  all  thought  there  was  something  crooked 
about  it." 

"  Let's  have  it,  man,  quick!  "  Thought  of  the 
telltale  lifeboat  had  instantly  flashed  across 
Hardy's  brain. 

"  Well,  I  swear  I  thought  you'd  'a  heard  of 
that  by  this  time,"  the  operator  went  on.  "  It 
was  this  way.  A  couple  of  weeks  ago  when  the 
Commodore's  yacht  was  lying  here  in  the  Sound 
to  take  on  some  local  capitalists  he  was  going 
to  carry  down  to  Mexico  to  look  into  those  oil 
fields,  there  happened  what  looked  like  a  pretty 
serious  accident.  The  night  before  the  boat 
planned  to  steam  out  was  dark  as  tarred  pitch. 
Now,  it  seems  Hatton  had  a  Dago  or  Greaser 
or  some  such  cuss  on  board  who  could  speak 
Spanish  —  s  'posed  to  be  taken  along  as  an  inter- 
preter. Well,  this  night  the  fellow  insisted  on 
going  ashore  for  one  reason  or  the  other;  had 
to  mail  an  important  letter  or  send  a  telegram 
—  some  trumped-up  excuse." 


At  Cape  Peril  207 

Hardy  gave  an  involuntary  start  that  the  other 
did  not  fail  to  notice. 

"  And  they  went  in  one  of  the  ship's  boats?  " 
the  airman  could  not  resist  putting  in. 

"  Of  course,  how  else  was  he  to  go?  " 
demanded  the  operator.  "  You  didn't  see  him, 
did  you?  " 

"  No,  go  on!  " 

"  Well,  he  got  permission  and  *"oked  a  sailor 
to  help  him  row.  About  twenty  minutes  after 
the  pair  had  pulled  off,  the  crew  heard  a  yell 
from  the  water,  a  yell  for  help,  and  on  lowering 
a  boat  to  investigate,  found  this  same  sailor 
splashing  around  in  the  water  pretty  near 
played  out,  or  making  out  he  was.  They  hauled 
him  aboard  the  lifeboat,  got  him  on  the  yacht, 
and  stimulated  up  to  the  talking  point.  Then 
he  panted  out  a  yarn  about  his  lifeboat  being 
run  down  in  the  Sound  by  a  tug  or  something 
that  didn't  show  a  light,  which  sounds  pretty 
fishy  to  start  with.  Said  the  boat  was  smashed, 
and  that  his  companion  must  have  gone  down 
like  a  stone,  for,  as  soon  as  he  managed  to  get 
his  own  senses,  he  swam  around  and  didn't  see 
a  sign  of  him.  He  floundered  around,  he  claimed, 


208  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

for  several  minntes;  then  he  realized  his  only 
hope  of  safety  was  to  make  for  the  yacht  half 
a  mile  away,  a  heap  nearer  than  the  shore.  So 
he  struck  out  and  made  it  by  the  hardest. 

"  As  soon  as  that  bird  told  his  tale,  they 
got  him  to  his  bunk,  for  he  did  seem  all  in,  and 
then  the  Commodore  started  to  investigate.  He 
sent  another  boat  over  to  the  supposed  scene  of 
the  collision,  V-.J:  not  a  sign  of  anything  was  in 
sight  —  not  a  plank  floating  on  the  water  so 
far  as  they  could  make  out.  Then  they  came 
over  here  and  sent  a  message  to  the  sheriff  to  be 
on  the  lookout  and  make  every  effort  to  recover 
the  body." 

"I've  seen  the  boat,"  blurted  out  Hardy,  who 
had  been  listening  with  deep  absorption. 

"  The  mischief  you  have!  "  exclaimed  the 
operator,  his  eyes  popping.  "  Where?  " 

Hardy  recounted  the  story  of  the  discovery 
on  Knott's  Island. 

"  The  darn  crook!  "  the  operator  burst  out 
when  he  had  heard  him  through.  "  That  makes 
it  clear  as  day.  It  was  a  frame-up." 

"  What  does  it  all  mean!  "  Hardy  wanted 
to  know. 


At  Cape  Peril  209 

"  That's  what  I  can't  make  out.  Here  a  fel- 
low who  had  just  got  a  job,  and  then  tries  to 
beat  it  and  make  his  employer  think  he  is  dead. 
Something  behind  it." 

"  Anything  missing  from  the  yacht  in  the 
way  of  valuables!  " 

"  Nothing  reported.  You  see,  the  Commodore 
had  to  steam  out  the  next  day,  as  he  didn't  have 
any  more  margin  left  him  before  the  time  he 
was  due  in  Mexico.  It  appears  a  pile  of  money 
was  dependent  on  his  getting  down  in  time  to 
pull  off  a  deal." 

11  So  he  left  the  next  morning?  " 

"Must  have!  When  I  took  a  look  out,  the 
yacht  was  gone." 

"  Has  Hatton  communicated  with  anybody 
since  he's  been  away?  " 

11  I  hear  he's  been  in  touch  with  the  sheriff, 
but  King  —  that's  the  deputy  who's  on  the  job 
—  is  mum  as  wax  about  it,  attending  to  his  own 
business.  That's  what  I  hear  from  Dareville." 

"  He  has  his  headquarters  in  Dareville?  " 
asked  Hardy. 

"  Ye-ah,  and  I  know  they've  made  a  pretty 
close  search  of  the  waters  hereabouts  for  that 


210  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

busted  boat  and  the  remains  of  the  fellow 
Blanco." 

"  Called  himself  Blanco,  did  he?  " 

"  That  was  the  name  he  gave  Hatton.  I 
reckon  he  picked  up  that  Buffalo  Dare  alias  when 
he  heard  that  crazy  man's  name  over  in 
Dareville." 

"  Funny  the  sheriff  hasn't  searched  the  other 
end  of  the  Sound.'* 

"  Maybe  he  did,  but  detectives,  amateur  ones, 
think  they  know  it  all.  They  see  pretty  much 
everything  but  what's  right  under  their  noses." 

"  That's  sure  so,"  agreed  Hardy.  "  But  what 
happened  to  that  rescued  sailor?  He  must  have 
been  in  the  game." 

"  He  was  carried  off  in  the  yacht,  but  I  under- 
stand that  Hatton  left  word  he  would  keep  him 
close  till  the  matter  was  cleared  up." 

"It's  a  blame  funny  thing,"  said  Hardy, 
half  to  himself.  "And  beating  it  up  to  Knott's 
Island!  That's  not  actually  an  island,  though; 
it's  connected  with  the  mainland,  and  he  could 
have  made  off  on  foot  through  the  wilds.  S'pose 
he  had  any  reason  to  go  to  Cape  Peril?  " 

A  vague  apprehension  had  seized  the  speaker 


At  Cape  Peril  211 

that  the  villain  might  be  meditating  some  devil- 
ment in  that  direction. 

"  Cape  Peril!  If  he's  hooked  something," 
declared  the  operator,  "  he's  going  to  get  to 
some  big  city  and  try  to  lose  himself.  No  Cape 
Peril  for  him." 

"  Anyhow,  I'd  like  to  get  over  and  interview 
that  deputy." 

"  Well,  you  won't  get  that  interview  for 
some  time  yet,  I'm  thinking,  from  the  sound  of 
that  wind  and  the  look  of  that  aggravated  ocean. 
You're  not  fool  enough  to  try  to  fly  back,  I 
hope." 

"  Not  quite,"  conceded  the  pilot. 

"  Didn't  think  you  were,"  granted  the  opera- 
tor. "  Beckon  you  want  to  solve  this  mystery 
before  you  pass  in  your  checks." 

"  That  would  be  some  satisfaction,"  laughed 
the  other. 

"  Glad  you  are  gradually  getting  a  little  sense. 
Though  I'm  powerful  glad  you  got  here,  believe 
me,  if  I'd  been  in  your  place,  I'd  stuck  to  where 
I  was  and  let  lighthouse  keepers  be  hanged. 
But  you  airmen  get  to  thinking  you  are  wind- 
proof  and  thunderproof  and  every  other  sort  of 


212  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

proof  until  you  slip  a  cog  sometime  and  get  a 
dose  of  discretion  —  that  is,  if  you  ever  come  to 
your  senses  again  after  you  tumble." 

11  I  know  my  business,"  asserted  Hardy,  some- 
what hotly. 

"  They  all  do;  I  never  knew  one  who  wasn't 
thoroughly  familiar  with  his  business.  Don't 
want  to  hear  any  more  of  this?  All  right.  I'll 
shut  up.  But  we're  all  fools  in  the  same  boat 
together." 

Hardy  had  frowned,  but  his  face  cleared 
instantly.  He  didn't  mind  a  little  jollying. 

11  I  have  been  a  big  one  today,"  he  granted. 
"  I  brought  Commodore  Hatton's  son  as  far  as 
Roanoke.  Intended  to  leave  him  at  Knott's 
Island,  but,  after  that  boat  find  and  when  Smith 
didn't  turn  up,  the  boy  pestered  me  so  I  had  to 
fly  him  further." 

Then  he  told  of  the  house-party  at  Seagulls' 
Nest. 

"  You're  just  a  kid  along  with  the  rest  of 
them,"  asserted  the  operator,  "  and  you  always 
will  be.  You'll  never  grow  up  till  your  dying 
day.  Well,  I  reckon  that's  the  way  to  die  with- 
out making  the  acquaintance  of  trouble.  I'm 


At  Cape  Peril  213 

thinking,  though,  the  Commodore  will  make  a 
little  trouble  for  you  if  he  hears  about  this  trip." 

"  That's  the  reason  I  want  to  beat  it  back  as 
soon  as  possible.  Isn't  there  any  way  of  get- 
ting off  this  forsaken  sandbar?  " 

"  Not  today  or  tonight,"  declared  the  opera- 
tor cheerfully.  "  Afraid  you'll  have  to  give  me 
your  ^company  for  some  hours,  or  maybe  days 
yet." 

"  Confound  it!  "  exploded  Hardy. 

"  'Tis  pretty  tough!  " 

"  How  long  you  think  this  blow  will  last?  " 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  think  it  will 
be  a  long  one. ' '  And  he  added,  to  give  the  excited 
man  a  grain  of  comfort,  "  Maybe  a  tug  or 
something  will  be  in  hailing  distance  after  the 
worst  is  over." 

"  If  I  can  get  over  on  anything  floating," 
declared  Hardy,  grasping  at  the  possibility, 
"  I'll  have  you  keep  an  eye  on  Windjammer  and 
I'll  try  to  scare  up  an  auto  to  make  Cape  Peril 
through  the  country.  Turner  and  I  can  come 
down  in  the  seaplane  after  this  blasted  storm 
peters  out  and  pick  up  my  bird  again." 

With  this  arrangement  in  mind,  the  pilot  tried 


214  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

to  make  the  best  of  the  situation.  %He  and  the 
operator  settled  themselves  in  the  wireless  sta- 
tion to  smoke  and  chat  away  the  hours,  inter- 
rupting the  occupation  to  snatch  a  bite  to  eat 
and,  ever  and  anon,  to  inspect  the  prospects  out 
of  doors  and  the  condition  of  the  barometer. 
Amid  the  howling  wind  and  the  rain,  they  sat 
till  the  tempest  that  evening  had  spent  its  force. 
By  ten  o'clock  things  looked  vastly  more 
promising. 

At  this  hour,  Hardy  learned  to  his  great 
delight  that  a  tug,  weathering  the  blast  on  the 
Sound  side  of  the  Kitty  Hawk  bar,  was  about 
to  put  out  for  Roanoke  Island  and  then  proceed 
to  Knott's  Island  and  he  found  that  he  could 
get  accommodations  for  the  voyage  over. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  NIGHT  RIDERS 

When  Hardy  set  foot  on  Roanoke  Island,  he 
probably  felt  almost  as  elated  as  did  the  first 
English  settlers  in  America  when  they  landed 
near  the  same  spot  three  hundred  and  thirty-odd 
years  before.  For  him,  however,  it  was  the 
mere  start  of  the  journey.  His  business  was  to 
get  Hatton  back  to  Cape  Peril  and  get  him  there 
in  a  hurry.  Besides,  he  still  felt  disturbed 
about  the  whereabouts  and  devilish  plans  of  this 
mysterious  Blanco. 

With  some  difficulty,  the  pilot  made  his  way 
up  the  unpaved  street  of  the  still  and  desolate 
hamlet.  Scarcely  a  light  was  visible.  The  Dare- 
villers,  even  if  not  all  healthy,  wealthy  and  wise, 
were  early  to  bed  at  any  rate;  and  persons 
prowling  around  after  nine  o'clock  were  more 
or  less  suspicious.  Hardy,  steering  his  course 
by  a  solitary  lamp  shining  through  a  window  of 
the  "  hotel,"  reached  the  porch  without  inter- 
ference, and  no  sooner  had  his  foot  touched  the 

215 


216  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

planks  than  the  vigilant  Legs  was  out  of  the 
door,  and,  in  another  moment,  let  out  a  yell  of 
recognition. 

"  Shut  up,"  urged  Hardy.  "  Stop  your  fuss, 
or  we'll  both  be  jugged  by  the  constable  for 
disturbing  the  peace  at  this  ungodly  hour;  it 
must  be  nine  o'clock  if  it's  a  minute." 

"  How  did  you  get  here?  What's  happened!  " 
the  boy  shot  at  him  in  a  slightly  lowered  tone. 

"  Let's  get  in  out  of  this  wind  and  I'll  tell 
you."  Inside,  Hardy  proceeded  to  recount  hur- 
riedly the  events  since  his  abrupt  departure. 
The  boy  listened  breathlessly.  Relieved  to  hear 
that  his  father's  yacht  was  well  on  to  port,  his 
mind  gave  all  its  attention  to  the  Blanco  mystery. 

"  I  thought  that  fellow  looked  like  a  slick 
one,"  declared  the  lad  when  Hardy  had  finished 
his  story,  "  but  he  sure  had  father  hoodooed." 

This  was  an  afterthought,  inspired  by  recent 
events.  The  truth  was,  when  the  lad  got  his 
glimpse  of  the  interpreter,  he  had  not  given  him 
much  attention  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  And  you  don't  know  any  reason  the  man 
had  for  making  off  this  way?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  Not   unless    he's    swiped    something."    was 


At  Cape  Peril  217 

Legs's  suspicion.  "  But,  say,  let's  get  on  that 
tugboat.  I'll  die  if  I  stay  in  this  place  ten  min- 
utes longer." 

"  'Fraid  you'll  have  to  die,  then.  I'm  going 
to  get  hold  of  that  sheriff  first.  I'm  going  to 
wake  a  few  citizens  up  if  I  start  a  riot  in 
doing  it." 

The  landlord  was  the  first  to  suffer.  He  was 
finally  rooted  out  in  a  state  of  negligee  and 
indignation;  but,  when  the  airman  offered  to  pay 
for  the  boy's  room  and  for  one  he  himself  might 
occupy,  but  did  not  intend  to,  the  appeased  host 
agreed  to  dress  and  direct  the  way  to  King's 
house. 

"  Reckon  it's  a  good  thing  to  get  rid  of  that 
kid,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  I  never  seen  such 
a  squirmy  varmint  since  I  was  bawn." 

Ten  minutes  later,  Hardy  was  knocking  on  the 
door  of  the  deputy  sheriff.  Fortunately  that  offi- 
cial, after  being  detained  abroad  on  some  crim- 
inal business,  was  still  awake  over  a  late  supper. 
He  ushered  his  guests  in  politely  and  a  very  rea- 
sonable sort  of  person  he  turned  out  to  be. 

"  Yes,  I've  had  some  cable  messages  from 
Commodore  Hatton,"  he  returned  to  Hardy's 


218  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

questions,  after  listening  to  the  pilot's  interests 
in  the  matter.  "  He's  got  enough  evidence  to 
convict  that  crook  if  we  can  get  the  hooks  in 
him.  What  he  done  I  don't  know  any  more  than 
you  do.  All  I  know  is  IVe  &?i  to  try  to  catch 
him.  I've  wired  the  description  around,  and  I 
think  we're  on  the  trail.  What  you  tell  me  about 
that  boat  you  found  goes  in  with  a  report  I 
got  that  a  man  lookin'  like  Blanco  was  seen  in 
the  back  country  not  far  from  Knott's  Island. 
But  I've  got  hold  of  another  piece  of  informa- 
tion I  can't  let  out  yet,  and  I'm  going  up  Nor- 
folk way  tomorrow  —  was  going  today  if  the 
boats  hadn't  been  held  up  by  this  here  storm. 
Commodore  Hatton  offers  right  smart  money 
reward  if  the  man's  landed." 

"  How  about  going  tonight?  "  suggested 
Hardy. 

The  deputy  gave  a  look  that  showed  he 
thought  he  was  dealing  with  a  lunatic. 

"I'm  not  dangerous,"  laughed  Hardy,  inter- 
preting the  other's  glance.  Then  he  told  of 
the  waiting  tugboat. 

"  What  would  you  do  when  you  got  to  Knott's 
Island?  "  objected  the  reluctant  deputy. 


At  Cape  Peril  219 

"  That's  easy,"  explained  Hardy.  "I've  got 
a  friend  there  who  owns  an  automobile.  He'll 
lend  it  to  me  for  love  or  money,  or  maybe  both. 
We'll  get  to  the  island,  if  the  tug  don't  break 
down,  by  one  o'clock.  It's  an  hour's  or  an  hour 
and  a  half's  run  to  Cape  Peril.  I'll  put  you  up 
at  Seagulls'  Nest,  my  place  there,  till  tomorrow, 
and  then  send  you  wherever  you  want  to  go." 

"  Eotten  roads  and  a  howlin'  night,"  medi- 
tated the  deputy. 

"  You  can  sleep  on  the  tug  and  take  a  wink 
in  the  auto,"  promised  the  other.  "  I'll  attend 
to  the  roads.  Nash's  car's  special  trick  is  climb- 
ing out  of  mud  holes." 

The  deputy  thought  a  while  longer,  figured  on 
what  he  would  save  financially,  consulted  his 
wife  in  retirement,  got  her  permission  after 
some  argument,  and  made  himself  ready  to  go. 

Shortly  after  the  three  night  travelers  were 
aboard,  the  tug  bravely  started,  ploughing  the 
rolling  waters  on  its  way  up  the  Sound.  Hardy 
and  the  deputy  had  soon  made  themselves  com- 
fortable on  benches  and  were  sound  asleep.  Legs, 
however,  had  to  contend  for  an  hour  with  a 
queasy  feeling  closely  related  to  seasickness. 


220  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

One  o'clock  found  the  party  safely  ashore  on 
Knott's  Island,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  lantern 
of  the  tngboat  captain  they  managed  to  pick 
their  way  to  Nash's  store.  His  dwelling  place 
was  above  and,  in  the  rear,  stood  his  garage. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  jiggered  again!  "  was  his 
exclamation  when  he  was  roused  after  some 
effort  in  the  way  of  door  pounding  and,  armed 
with  a  pistol,  came  down  to  investigate  the  dis- 
turbance. "I'll  be  jiggered!  How'd  you  get 
here  this  time  o*  night?  Darn  if  I  don't  b'lieve 
you've  been  fool  enough  to  fly." 

The  pilot  rattled  out  his  explanation  and  the 
pressing  business  in  hand,  offering  ample  com- 
pensation for  the  use  of  the  auto. 

"  Anything  to  accommodate  a  friend  like 
you,"  said  the  good-natured  Nash.  "  Just  so 
you  don't  ask  me  to  go  with  you." 

The  motor  was  produced,  Hardy  took  the 
wheel,  the  deputy  the  place  by  him,  Legs 
sprawled  on  the  rear  seat,  and  the  car  was  off, 
leaving  the  owner  almost  as  flabbergasted  as  he 
had  been  at  first  sight  of  his  visitors. 

To  call  the  road  across  Knott's  Island  bad 
would  be  to  compliment  it;  it  was  one  not  to  be 


At  Cape  Peril  221 

mentioned  in  polite  motoring  society.  But  some 
cars  can  negotiate  almost  anything,  and  Nash 'a 
car  was  of  that  breed.  When  this  nightmare 
of  a  trail  was  left  behind  and  the  car  crossed 
the  tongue  of  land  that  connected  the  so-called 
"  island  "  with  the  mainland,  they  struck  a 
passable  shellroad,  and  Hardy,  having  the  law 
by  his  side,  tried  to  outspeed  the  wind  on  his 
northwesterly  journey.  An  hour's  run  brought 
him  to  the  point  where  the  branch  road  struck 
off  in  the  direction  of  Seagulls'  Nest.  He  had 
made  this  without  incident  to  the  point  where 
he  was  rounding  the  curve.  Here,  knowing  that 
he  had  practically  reached  his  destination,  he 
had  taken  his  eyes  from  the  illuminated  road 
in  front  to  direct  the  deputy's  attention  to  the 
position  of  Cape  Peril,  with  some  remarks  about 
the  possible  effects  of  the  storm,  when,  to  his 
consternation,  he  found  he  was  right  on  an 
object  standing  to  one  side  in  the  road.  An 
instant's  glance  showed  m'm  it  was  a  runabout, 
but  despite  his  desperate  effort  to  veer  off  he 
was  unable  to  avoid  crashing  into  it. 

Then  followed  the  excited  talk  that  Cat  Miller 
had  heard  from  his  covert. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

KNITTING  UP   THE   CLUES 

"  Who's  that?  "  demanded  Hardy  sharply 
when  he  heard  a  voice  cry  out  in  the  darkness. 

All  three  from  the  colliding  auto  were  instantly 
on  the  alert. 

"It's  Cat!  Cat  Miller!  "  sang  out  the  voice 
lustily.  "Don't  shoot!  It's  Cat." 

"It  is  Cat!  "  assured  Hatton  excitedly. 

Hardy,  who,  at  the  first  sound,  had  drawn 
his  revolver,  now  returned  it  to  its  holster,  and 
yelled  out:  "Where  in  the  dickens  are  you? 
Come  on  here!  " 

Cat  bounded  up  and  ran  forward.  As  soon  as 
his  face  came  into  the  glare,  it  showed  an  expres- 
sion of  the  greatest  agitation. 

"  There  was  a  man,  a  man,  lame,  trying  to 
get  into  the  machine,"  he  panted  out  to  the  per- 
turbed listeners.  "  He  slipped  down  there!  " 

The  boy  stretched  his  hand  toward  the  left 
road  side.  "  I  heard  him!  I  saw  him!  " 

His  astounding  news  created  a  great  stir 
222 


At  Cape  Peril  223 

among  the  new  arrivals.  Hardy  and  the  deputy 
instantly  drew  their  pistols,  pulled  the  two  boys 
up  to  the  shelter  of  the  machine,  and,  after 
extinguishing  the  light,  managed  to  get  from  the 
youngster  a  coherent  story  of  what  he  had  seen. 

All  had  crouched  and  dropped  their  voices  to 
whispers. 

"  It  must  be  him,"  declared  the  deputy. 

Then  followed  a  brief  recital  of  what  had  gone 
on  at  Seagulls'  Nest,  of  the  extinguished  light, 
Turner's  excursion,  and  the  discovery  of  the 
telltale  key. 

"  The  dastardly  scoundrel!  "  exploded  Hardy, 
in  spite  of  himself.  "  That's  his  game,  is  it?  " 

The  deputy  urged  absolute  silence  on  all  while 
he  listened. 

"  Not  safe  to  follow  him  till  light,"  whispered 
the  officer  to  Hardy.  "  If  he's  lame,  he  can't 
get  far." 

"  Wonder  if  Turner  winged  him?  " 

He  was  concerned  about  what  might  have 
happened  at  Cape  Peril. 

"  Look  here,"  whispered  the  officer  in  Hardy's 
ear.  "  We  must  get  these  boys  away  from 
here." 


224  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Hardy  thought  a  moment,  then'he  said  in  a 
low  tone  to  the  two  lads: 

"  Here,  boys,  you  get  on  to  the  house.  Make 
a  break  for  the  shore  and  beat  it  back  as  fast 
as  you  can;  and,  when  you  get  there,  stay 
locked  up  till  morning  light.  As  soon  as  Turner 
turns  up,  tell  him  what's  doing.  Mr.  King  and 
I  will  watch  here  off  by  the  road  with  an  eye 
on  the  machine.  No  questions.  Now  go,  and  be 
quick!  " 

Cat  was  inclined  to  protest,  but  Hardy  shut 
him  up  without  ceremony,  and  the  two  boys,  Cat 
leading,  made  a  break  for  the  shore  and  under 
the  shelter  of  the  sand  bank  started  off  for 
Seagulls '  Nest. 

"Great  Gee,  Legs!  This  is  the  dickens, 
ain't  it?  "  said  Cat,  making  himself  heard 
against  the  wind  when  he  felt  they  were  at  a 
safe  distance. 

"  You're  right  it  is!  "  returned  Hatton. 

"  Who  was  that  other  manT  "  Cat  was  eager 
to  know. 

"  That  was  the  sheriff  from  Roanoke  Island. 
He's  after  the  crook.  Father  cabled  him,  and 
say,  Cat,  I  found  the  boat  that  put  'em  on  the 


At  Cape  Peril  225 

trail  and  —  and  —  but  I  can't  talk  in  this  noise 
and  watch  my  step  at  the  same  time.  Wait  till 
we  get  there." 

When  the  pair  reached  the  house,  Miller 
opened  the  door,  locked  it  carefully  after  them, 
and,  exhorting  Legs  to  back  him  up,  made  a 
thorough  search  of  the  lower  floor.  Everything 
appeared  intact,  and  Luke  was  still  busily  snor- 
ing away  in  his  cubicle.  Then  followed  a  thor- 
ough examination  of  the  upper  floor,  with  the 
assistance  of  the  lamp.  Nothing  exciting  there. 
A  glance  through  the  window  showed  the  light 
still  gleaming  through  the  window  of  Cape  Peril. 
On  the  heights  beyond,  another  fire  was  glowing. 
To  Legs'  uneasy  inquiries  Cat  explained  this 
as  probably  another  beacon. 

Then  they  betook  themselves  to  their  bedroom 
and  stretching  out  on  their  cots,  started  to  swap 
yarns.  First  came  Legs's  find  and  its  sequel; 
then  Cat  told  of  the  killing  of  the'  shark. 

"  I  might  'a  been  inside  that  sucker  right 
this  minute,"  speculated  the  narrator  at  the 
end  of  his  shark  tale,  "  if  my  foot  had  slipped. 
Gee!  You  were  lucky  Legs,  he'd  a  swiped  one 
of  your  props  sure." 


226  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Their  own  experiences  exchanged,  their  minds 
turned  to  the  future. 

"  No  chance  of  that  lame  duck  crawling 
away,'*  assured  Cat,  with  regard  to  the  man  in 
hiding,  "  and  if  he  tries  it,  Hardy  will  sure 
wing  him." 

tt  "\\re>re  not  sure  it's  the  same  man  yet," 
doubted  Legs. 

"  I'd  bet  the  airplane  I  expect  to  own  some 
day  on  it,"  Cat  declared. 

"  Well,  it  won't  be  long  before  we  know, 
will  it?  " 

"  'Bout  an  hour  or  two,"  returned  Cat, 
languidly. 

For  the  last  ten  minutes,  their  conversation 
had  been  growing  more  and  more  forced.  Both 
were  worn  out,  and  tired  nature  was  gradually 
asserting  itself. 

A  few  more  remarks  and  then  the  two  yielded 
completely,  their  best  intentions  to  hold  out 
shattered.  Without  interference  the  garrison, 
three  strong,  including  Luke,  all  fast  asleep, 
held  the  fort  until  — 


CHAPTEE  XX 

COMPARING  NOTES 

At  noon,  Hardy  burst  into  Turner's  room  at 
Seagulls'  Nest  with  a  loud  exclamation.  There 
lay  the  Tarheel  on  his  bed  with  most  of  his 
clothes  on,  fast  asleep.  It  took  some  pretty 
strenuous  shakes  to  arouse  him. 

"  Wake  up  here,  and  tell  me  what's  hap- 
pened,'* demanded  the  newcomer. 

"  Hardy!  "  exclaimed  the  aroused  man,  sit- 
ting up. 

"I'm  Hardy,  all  right.  It's  twelve  o'clock, 
man,  and  everything  in  this  establishment  asleep 
as  the  dead.  I  broke  in  here  and  found  Luke 
still  hitting  it  off;  then  I  rushed  up  stairs  and 
hammered  the  boys'  door  —  locked  and  not  a 
sound,  then  there  was  Jimmy  asleep  on  my  bed, 
and  here  you  are  in  the  same  condition." 

"  How  did  you  get  here!  "  asked  Turner,  now 
wide  awake. 

"  Tell  you  in  a  minute  as  soon  as  you  explain 
yourself. ' ' 

227 


228  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

11  Where  is  Legs?  " 

"  Haven't  you  seen  him?  Isn't  he  here?  " 
Hardy  flashed  out  in  alarm. 

"  I  haven't  seen  him.  I  thought  Cat  was  in 
that  room  by  himself,"  Turner  protested. 
"  Jimmy  and  I  got  back  from  the  lighthouse  at 
daybreak.  There  was  trouble  over  there — " 

"  I  know." 

"  You  do!  "  exclaimed  Turner. 

"  Yes,  Cat  told  me,  last  night." 

Turner  stared.     "  You  got  in  last  night?  " 

11  'Bout  two  o'clock  and  a  deuce  of  a  time  I've 
had  since." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  you  didn't  fly,  did 
you?  " 

"  Don't  talk  like  a  fool,  Turner.  I  came  in  a 
motor.  I'll  tell  you  all  that  in  a  minute.  But 
what  I  want  to  know  first  is  where  Cat  and 
Hatton  are." 

"  You  say  you  looked  in  their  room  and  they 
weren't  there?  " 

"  Wake  up!  I  said  the  boys'  room  was  locked. 
Here,  I'm  going  to  see." 

He  grabbed  up  a  chair  and  rushed  from  the 
room.  In  a  few  moments  he  was  back,  before 


At  Cape  Peril  229 

the  bewildered  Turner  could  fully  come  to  his 
senses. 

"  They're  there  all  right,"  Hardy  announced, 
with  a  look  of  relief.  "  I  peeped  over  the  tran- 
som, and  saw  'em  dead  —  asleep." 

"  How  did  Legs  get  in  there  if  you  didn't 
know  it?  "  persisted  Turner. 

Hardy  immediately  started  his  story  and, 
while  Turner  listened  with  tense  interest, 
brought  it  down  to  the  point  where  he  sent  the 
lads  away  from  the  scene  of  the  collision. 

"After  we  got  rid  of  the  boys,"  he  proceeded, 
"  King  and  I  squatted  down  on  the  side  of  the 
road  with  our  fingers  on  the  triggers  of  our 
automatics  to  fix  our  unknown  friend  in  case  he 
tried  to  make  off  in  our  machine.  His  was  out 
of  commission  good  and  proper.  We  listened 
and  listened,  but  not  a  suspicious  sound  did  we 
hear.  As  soon  as  day  broke  and  we  could  see 
objects  with  some  clearness,  we  began  to  peer 
around  cautiously.  Nothing  suspicious  was  to 
be  seen  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
machine,  but  just  beyond,  were  tracks.  Now 
about  fifty  feet  from  the  road,  there  is  a  slope 
of  some  fifteen-foot  fall.  We  crawled  up  to  this 


230  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

and  took  a  look  over.  No  human  being  was  in 
sight,  but  there  were  marks  as  of  a  body  that 
had  rolled  down.  We  were  on  the  trail. 

"  Leading  from  this  little  valley,  there  was  a 
sort  of  pass  between  the  sand  hills.  So  we 
snaked  around,  making  a  wide  detour  and 
crawled  up  to  the  top  of  one  of  these.  Tracks 
were  distinctly  visible  in  the  depression.  We 
slid  down  and  followed  these  to  a  broad  stretch 
of  sandy  ground  beyond.  You  remember  that 
well  enough.  There  was  the  trail  plain  as  day. 
The  man  had  evidently  been  dragging  along  by 
the  hardest  effort.  Now  and  then,  we  could  see 
traces  of  his  having  sat  down  or  lain  in  the 
sand.  At  the  distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  in  a  more  exposed  place,  the  tracks  dis- 
appeared, evidently  covered  by  the  wind-blown 
sand,  but  we  calculated  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  a  man  in  the  condition  Cat 
described  to  get  much  further  in  the  short  time 
since  the  collision. 

"  To  avoid  the  chance  of  being  pinked  from 
cover,  we  slipped  up  to  the  top  of  a  dune  near 
the  ocean  and  tried  to  search  with  our  eyes  every 
foot  of  ground  around.  Suddenly  I  lit  on  a 


At  Cape  Peril  231 

peculiar  low  mound  on  the  side  of  the  dune 
nearer  the  ocean  and  thought  I  saw  sand  roll 
down  as  if  dislodged  by  something  stirring 
beneath.  I  called  King's  attention,  and  he  agreed 
with  me.  There  was  a  telltale  place  in  the 
sand  partly  covered  by  a  piece  of  wood  that, 
in  our  whispered  consultation,  we  decided  was 
left  for  an  air  hole.  Our  course  of  action  was 
decided  on.  We  circled  around,  crawled  to  the 
top  of  that  sand  hill,  and,  getting  our  bearing, 
slid  down  a  space  and  then  both  gave  a  spring 
and  piled  plumb  on  that  suspected  spot.  And 
great  Lawd,  man,  you  would  have  thought  we'd 
hit  the  top  of  a  volcano,  from  the  shindy  the 
corpse  raised  when  it  acknowledged  receipt  of 
our  attention,  but  we  had  him  pinned  and  it  was 
a  question  of  his  suffocating  in  two  minutes,  or 
lying  quiet.  First  a  foot  resurrected,  a  shoe- 
less foot  swollen  to  twice  its  natural  size,  and 
then  an  arm.  The  right  hand,  not  the  left  with 
the  stumped  fingers." 

"  He  had  two  stumped  fingers  on  his  left 
hand,  did  he?  " 

"  How  did  you  know  that?  Did  you  see 
him?  "  inquired  Hardy  in  surprise. 


232  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  No,  but  Buffum  got  a  glimpse  of  his  paw 
when  he  tied  him  up!  " 

"  Tied  him  up  before  he  smashed  out  the 
light?  " 

"  Go  on,"  insisted  Turner  eagerly.  "I'll  tell 
you  my  part  when  you  finish  your  story.  Go 
on!  Go  on!  " 

"  Well,  the  exciting  part  about  that  right  hand 
was  that  it  held  an  automatic,  but  I  had  that 
out  of  his  grasp  with  one  grab.  He  wouldn't 
have  had  the  strength  to  pull  the  trigger  any- 
how, for  he  was  pretty  near  done  for  as  it  was. 
The  rising  of  those  limbs  was  just  a  sort  of  con- 
vulsion, I  reckon.  In  two  seconds  more,  we 
had  him  dug  out  and  exposed  to  light,  and  a 
more  perfect  picture  of  abject  misery  I  never 
saw.  His  face  was  nearly  black  from  the 
smothering.  A  man  of  fifty-odd,  he  was,  and 
a  sinewy  specimen  for  his  age,  and  he  must  have 
had  a  ton  of  endurance,  for  how  he  managed 
to  stump  that  far  on  that  broken  foot  gets  me." 

"  Then  he  broke  it  when  he  fell  down  the 
lighthouse  stairs  and — "  Turner  could  not  help 
putting  in,  but,  as  Hardy  paused  and  seemed 
eager  to  have  him  go  on,  he  declined  to  say  more 


At  Cape  Peril  233 

before  his  friend  had  finished  his  part  of  the 
story. 

"  All  right,  I'll  stick  to  it,"  promised  Hardy. 
"  He  wasn't  such  a  bad  looking  specimen,  not 
the  book  kind  of  villain  at  all,  looked  more  like 
a  sort  of  dissipated  seaman,  but  his  eyes  when 
we  got  the  sand  out  were  sorry  sights,  and  the 
grilling  he  had  been  through  hadn't  improved 
their  beauty  any.  It  was  fifteen  minutes  before 
our  handcuffed  friend  had  recovered  enough  to 
use  his  mouth,  and  then  it  was  to  emit  groans 
and  yells  of  pain,  but  we  were  determined  to 
make  him  talk  and  we  told  him  not  a  step 
would  we  carry  him  till  he  loosened  up.  Then 
he  yowled  out  something  about  having  lost  his 
way  and  sprained  his  ankle,  and  asked,  for 
heaven's  sake,  or  words  to  that  effect,  to  be 
taken  to  a  doctor. 

"  King  gave  him  his  word  of  honor  he  should 
have  a  doctor's  assistance  as  soon  as  he  got  to 
the  county  jail;  and  proceeded  to  take  from  his 
own  pocket  and  read  a  detailed  description  of 
the  man  Blanco,  who  had  disappeared  from  the 
yacht  under  pretense  of  drowning,  and  informed 
him  of  the  discovery  of  the  boat  I  told  you  about 


234  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

just  now,  with  some  other  particulars  I'll  tell 
you  later.  Meanwhile,  I  was  searching  his  per- 
son, and  found  a  pocketbook  with  a  fat  roll  of 
bills  in  it.  If  he  had  had  any  burglar  tools,  he 
had  chucked  them  away  somewhere.  Well,  he 
proceeded  to  yowl  and  deny  some  more,  but 
we'd  had  enough  of  that,  so,  handcuffed  and 
trussed  up,  he  was  trotted  off  to  our  auto.  The 
machine  was  battered,  but  would  run  all  right, 
so  we  hurried  our  qpptive  up  the  road  to  the 
county  jail,  sent  for  a  doctor  and  left  him  to  his 
happy  meditations. 

"  First  thing,  we  got  in  communication  by  long 
distance  with  Commodore  Hatton  in  Newport 
News." 

"  He  was  there,  was  het  "  questioned  Turner. 

"  Sure,  his  yacht  got  in  safely  early  in  the 
afternoon. ' ' 

"  Then,  thank  the  Lord,  it  wasn't  his  boat 
that  came  near  hitting  the  shoals  last  night!  " 
Turner  rejoiced. 

11  He  was  snug  in  port  by  four  o'clock,  it 
seems,  and  was  making  ready  to  get  on  Blanco 's 
trail  this  morning.  First  thing  he  wanted  to 
know  was  about  the  boys,  and  you  can  bet  your 


At  Cape  Peril  235 

boots,  I  was  happy  when  I  could  tell  him  his 
son  and  the  others  were  safe  and  well  at  Sea- 
gulls' Nest.  Of  course,  I  didn't  blow  on  you 
and  Jimmy.  After  he'd  got  the  boys  off  his 
mind,  he  informed  me  his  skipper  would  be 
down  today  to  identify  the  man,  and  give  us  all 
particulars.  I  hurried  on  back  to  find  out  what 
was  going  on  in  this  roost,  and  left  word  for  the 
skipper  to  follow  here  when  he  finishes  with  the 
bird  and  has  his  talk  with  King  at  the  jail.  Now 
it's  your  turn." 

After  a  few  questions  Turner  started  on  his 
story.  Finally,  he  reached  the  mystery  of  the 
boat  missing  when  he  started  for  Cape  Peril 
and  in  place  on  his  return. 

11  Miller  told  me  this  morning  he  found  it 
there  not  long  after  you  left.  Seems  he  got 
restless  and  wandered  down  to  meet  you  and 
saw  the  boat.  It  was  just  after  he  hiked  over 
in  the  direction  of  the  fire,  spied  the  escaping 
bird  and  still  had  his  eye  on  him  when  my 
machine  came  in  sight  and  collided." 

Then  Hardy  had  to  give  more  particulars  of 
the  collision. 

"  I  remember  now,"  said  Turner,  returning 


236  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

to  the  boat  incident.  "  Jimmy  thought  he  heard 
a  rowboat.  The  little  rascal  had  keener  ears 
than  I  had,  for  that  devil  must  have  put  in  just 
after  we  left." 

"  And  Cat  found  the  lighthouse  key  in  the 
boat,  too,"  announced  Hardy,  to  Turner's  fur- 
ther amazement. 

The  two  continued  their  speculations  for  some 
minutes  longer  as  to  the  means  Blanco  used  to 
accomplish  his  purpose  and  his  plans  for  escape. 

"  Now  I've  just  got  to  have  a  little  sleep," 
asserted  Hardy.  "  You'd  better  go  down  and 
be  sure  that  Luke's  stirring.  Give  him  orders 
to  wake  us  all  up  when  the  food  is  ready,  but 
right  this  minute  I'd  rather  sleep  than  eat." 

So,  leaving  Turner  to  attend  to  this  commis- 
sion, he  hurried  to  his  room,  stretched  himself 
on  a  cot  by  the  one  Jimmy  was  occupying  and 
fell  asleep  in  a  moment. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   SKIPPER   FILLS   THE   GAPS 

It  was  three  hours  later  before  breakfast  or 
luncheon,  or  whatever  else  the  meal  might  be 
called,  was  forthcoming.  Turner's  first  com- 
mission to  Luke  was  to  carry  a  note  to  Cap'n 
Buffum  telling  of  the  discovery  of  the  criminal 
and  to  inform  the  fishermen  that  further  search 
was  unnecessary.  The  messenger  had  to  pick 
his  way  with  some  care  along  the  beach,  and 
when  he  reached  Cape  Peril,  took  as  long  as 
possible  to  deliver  his  message,  so  that  it  was 
quite  an  hour  and  a  half  before  he  was  back 
on  his  job  again. 

Turner  was  the  first  one  to  awake.  He  decided 
to  let  Hardy  sleep,  but  shook  up  the  boys,  and 
such  a  riot  of  conversation  as  resulted  had 
seldom  been  heard  before.  At  the  table  they 
hardly  noticed  what  they  were  swallowing,  so 
busy  were  they  getting  the  full  story  from  Turner 
and  comparing  notes  with  one  another.  In  antic- 

237 


238  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

ipation  was  the  promised  arrival  of  the  yacht's 
captain  from  Newport  News. 

About  four  o'clock,  this  person,  Williams  by 
name,  arrived  in  an  auto.  Hardy  was  summoned 
at  once  to  meet  him,  and,  with  the  group  gath- 
ered about,  the  new  arrival  first  insisted  on 
pumping  everyone  present  for  details  concern- 
ing the  apprehension  of  Blanco,  and  then  told 
his  story,  or  at  least  as  much  as  he  was  at 
liberty  to  reveal. 

The  substance  of  his  revelations  was  about  as 
follows : 

"  When  that  fellow  was  taken  on  at  Newport 
News,  I  didn't  like  his  looks  from  the  start,  but 
the  Commodore  was  clean  taken  in  by  his  Span- 
ish talk  and,  as  the  occasion  was  a  pressing  one, 
he  thought  he'd  be  an  invaluable  man.  He  was 
good  at  the  typewriter,  too,  and  seemed  to  have 
picked  up  right  smart  education.  Had  letters  of 
recommendation  that  I  reckon  were  faked.  You 
know,  the  Commodore  wanted  to  get  hold  of  oil 
lands  down  there  in  Mexico  and  there  were  other 
companies  trying  to  beat  him  to  it.  Now,  it  turns 
out  that  this  Blanco,  or  Perkins  —  if  your  friend 
Buffum  is  right  —  or  whatever  else  his  name  was 


At  Cape  Peril  239 

(I  don't  believe  for  a  second  he  was  a  Mexican) 
was  in  the  pay  of  the  Revolutionists  down  there, 
who  wanted  to  get  some  proof  that  the  regular 
government  was  having  dealings  with  foreigners 
over  the  oil  lauds.  So  he  got  on  to  the  Commo- 
dore's game,  landed  the  place  on  the  yacht,  and 
made  off  with  some  papers  that  time  he  worked 
his  drowning  stunt.  The  loss  of  the  papers 
wasn't  discovered  till  later,  and  then  we  got  the 
dots  on  that  sailor  who  was  in  with  him.  He 
had  bribed  the  man  for  a  big  sum  to  be  delivered 
to  him  by  an  accomplice  in  Mexico  if  things 
worked. 

"  When  we  got  to  Mexico,  we  found  some  of 
the  revolutionists  had  gone  over  to  the  govern- 
ment side  and  given  away  some  of  the  secrets. 
This  game  was  one  of  them.  Blanco  hears  this 
by  cipher  cablegram,  I  figure  out,  and,  knowing 
the  Commodore  intended  to  turn  up  heaven  and 
earth  to  discover  him,  and  that  his  enemy  had 
planned  to  stop  by  Cape  Peril  to  take  on  his 
son,  he  hangs  around  here  and  makes  one  des- 
perate effort  to  send  the  boat  down  with  all  on 
board.  It  was  a  fool  thing  to  try,  as  the  chances 
were  all  against  him,  but  sometimes  a  hunted 


240  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

criminal  will  do  the  craziest  tbhigs  in  creation. 
Anyhow,  he  slipped  his  cog  this  time.'* 

The  captain  went  on  to  give  some  minor  details 
that  had  no  great  bearing  on  the  main  point  at 
issue,  and  finally  announced  that  he  could  make 
no  further  disclosures. 

"  Now,  young  men,"  he  said  at  last,  turning 
to  young  Hatton  and  his  two  companions,  "I've 
got  a  message  for  you.  Your  parents  were 
scared  to  death  about  you  boys  during  that  wind 
storm  yesterday  and  their  nerves  weren't  helped 
when  they  heard  about  that  crook  being  in  this 
neighborhood,  so  I  was  told  to  let  you  know  you 
must  come  home  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  Gee!  "  demurred  Cat,  with  a  sour  look. 
"  They  don't  think  we're  babies,  do  they?  I 
know  my  dad  wasn't  worried." 

"  I  don't  bring  any  full  particulars  of  their 
state  of  mind;  all  I  know  is  that  you're  directed 
to  come  home." 

"  How 're  we  going  to  get  there!  "  objected 
Jimmy.  "  We  can't  walk,  and  Mr.  Hardy's  plane 
is  at  Kitty  Hawk." 

"  'Fraid  they  wouldn't  let  you  come  home  in 
a  plane  after  all  this  excitement,  if  there  were  a 


At  Cape  Peril  241 

hundred  here.  The  Commodore's  auto  will  be 
waiting  at  two  sharp.  That's  my  message  and 
you've  got  it." 

There  was  some  further  grumbling,  but,  on 
second  thought,  towns  were  pretty  good  places 
to  spread  big  news,  so  the  return  wasn't  so  bad 
after  all.  However,  it  was  a  little  ignominious 
for  new-fledged  flyers  to  have  to  return  in  such  a 
tame  fashion  as  a  motor  car. 

Williams  finally  took  his  departure,  and  the 
rest  of  the  day  was  occupied  with  intervals  of 
eating,  sleeping  and  talking.  The  ocean,  the 
hosts  decided,  was  not  yet  sufficiently  tame  for  a 
dip.  Then  came  night  with  a  good  and  much 
needed  ten  hours'  sleep  for  every  soul  in  the 
establishment. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


The  morning  of  the  next  day,  the  day  of 
departure,  was  calm  and  peaceful  as  if  tempests 
in  the  air  and  the  sea  and  the  souls  of  men  were 
things  unknown.  This  time,  it  was  the  calm 
after  the  storm  instead  of  before  one.  But  the 
thrills  were  still  vivid  in  the  minds  of  the  three 
boys,  and  would  stay  with  them  till  their  last 
day. 

They  were  reconciled  enough  to  go  now,  for 
they  were  all  bursting  with  eagerness  to  take  the 
town  by  storm,  and  to  see  themselves  written  up 
with  photos  in  The  News  and  Herald,  as  Hardy 
had  confidently  predicted  they  would  be.  The 
hosts,  too,  realized  that,  after  the  momentous 
episodes  of  the  last  two  days,  any  further  stay 
might  prove  tame  and  tiresome;  that  it  was 
better  for  the  boys  to  leave  while  in  the  highest 
feather.  Then  they  would  be  eager  to  come 
again  sometime. 

The  first  pleasant  duty  after  breakfast  was  to 

242 


At  Cape  Peril  243 

trot  off  merrily  together  to  call  on  Cap'n 
Buffum.  He  was  still  a  little  shaky,  but  eager 
to  hear  over  and  over  again  the  circumstances, 
outside  of  his  own  part,  in  the  apprehension  of 
the  man  he  confidently  asserted  to  be  Perkins. 
Though  with  some  little  nervousness  he  looked 
forward  to  the  time  when  he  should  be  sum- 
moned as  a  witness  to  face  the  man  in  court. 

Finally,  the  visitors  announced  that  they  must 
be  off. 

"  Sorry  to  see  ye  go,"  declared  the  old  man 
huskily.  "  One  of  ye  did  me  a  turn  I  won't  never 
f  ergit,  and  all  of  ye  would  a  done  the  like  if  the 
'casion  had  riz  to  do  it.  Come  back  to  see  Bill 
Buffum,  will  ye?  I  ain't  no  more'n  teched  the 
top  layer  o'  my  pile  o'  sea-yarns.  I  don't  have 
to  do  like  the  preachers — turn  my  bar'l  over  and 
start  'em  all  over  agin.  Blister  my  boots,  my 
bar'l  ain't  got  no  bottom,  it  ain't." 

"  You  bet  we'll  come  back,"  asserted  Cat. 
"  Won't  we,  fellows?  " 

"  You  bet  we  will!  "  echoed  the  other  two. 

A  gratified  smile  crossed  the  keeper's  face. 

"  Say,  Cap'n  Buffum,"  suggested  Legs, 
"  how  about  running  up  and  spending  a  week- 


244  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

end  at  our  house?  Mother  and  Father  sure 
would  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"  My  weak  end  is  my  legs,  boy,  though  I 
ain't  quite  sho'  it  ain't  my  head  sence  I  war 
tied  up,"  returned  the  old  man  with  a  chuckle. 
"  No,  lad,  I  can't  run  up  nowhar.  I  couldn't 
do  that.  I  ain't  never  took  the  lessons  how  to 
'nipulate  them  tools  and  whatcha-may-call  'ems 
you  toney  folks  eats  with,  and,  when  I  shovels 
peas  in  my  mouth  with  these  hyuh  narrow-bladed 
eatin '-knives  they  gives  you  these  days,  blister 
my  boots,  if  half  o'  them  slippery  green  pellets 
don't  slide  off  into  my  lap. 

"A  ole- timer  like  me  don't  feel  good  and  com- 
fortable in  the  towns  nowadays  noway;  they  is 
always  a  scramblin'  'em  upside  down,  and  what 
you  see  one  day  you  don't  see  no  mo'  the  nex', 
till  my  brains  is  well-nigh  addled.  But,  though 
the  ships  may  change,  this  hyuh  water  don't.  So 
I'll  stick  down  hyuh  where  nobody  can't  be 
a-messin'  and  a-meddlin'  with  the  scenery,  and 
what  I  sees  one  night  I  knows  will  be  thar  the 
nex'  mornin*. 

"  The  old  time  towns  war  the  places  fer  me, 
when,  seem  like  all  the  houses  had  been  there  a 


At  Cape  Peril  245 

hundred  year,  and  ev'y  drug-sto'  had  colored 
three  and  fo'  story  jars  a  settin'  in  the  window, 
red  and  green  and  yaller  and  cinnamon  and  pink, 
maybe;  and,  in  front  of  ev'y  tobakker  shop  war 
a  wild  Indian  carved  o'  wood  pintin'  at  the  do* 
with  his  tommyhawk.  And  the  patent  medicine 
men  used  to  come  aroun'  in  their  kerridges  and 
spring  the  side-splittin'es'  jokes  I  ever  hyeard 
that  made  me  bow-leggeder  than  I  war  by 
nature.  Them  war  the  towns  I  could  navigate  in. 
But  thank  you  kindly,  lad,  jus'  the  same.  Thank 
you  agin. 

"  Now  to  go  back  to  that  there  Perkins,"  he 
hurried  on  to  avoid  having  to  decline  once  more 
the  invitation  Hatton  seemed  on  the  point  of 
repeating.  "  You  may  calkerlate  he's  been  in  my 
mind  considerable  and  I  ain't  denyin'  most  o' 
them  thoughts  warn't  complimentary,  and  boys,  I 
laid  thar  las'  night  on  my  donkey's  break- 
fast—" 

"  Lay  on  what?  "  asked  the  wondering  Jimmy. 

Cap'n  Buffum's  eyes  kindled  with  laughter  as 
he  nodded  towards  his  bed. 

"  That's  what  we  sailor  boys  used  to  call  our 
straw  mattresses  we  bunked  on  when  we  warn't 


246  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

a'swingin'  in  hammocks.  I  laid  tUSar  and  thought 
what  I'd  do  if  that  thar  Bill  Perkins  war  to  be 
brought  back  now  to  ask  me  to  fergive  him.  But 
I'd  a  done  same  as  I  tol'  you  befo'  he  played  his 
las'  trick  on  me.  Says  I  to  myself,  '  You'd  fer- 
give him.  Maybe  he  warn't  responsible.  His 
mammy  might  'a  let  him  fall  on  his  head  when 
he  war  a  puppy  and  that  busted  his  good  inten- 
tions. I'd  fergive  him  and  if  you're  good  scouts 
you'd  fergive  him,  too." 

"  It  was  fun  for  us,"  asserted  Jimmy  with 
relish. 

"  Have  yo'  fun,"  rejoined  the  good  old  soul, 
with  great  seriousness,  "  thar's  plenty  o'  room 
fer  it,  but  don't  have  it  over  other  folks  wicked- 
ness er  their  tribulations.  Play  your  game 
squar,  lads,  play  it  squar." 

"  You  bet  we'll  do  that,"  Jimmy  hastened  to 
make  amends  for  his  blunder. 

"  Now,  look  at  that  thar  Perkins,"  proceeded 
the  Cap'n.  "  Fer  thirty  year  and  mo'  he's  been 
a  prowlin'  up  and  down  the  earth  inventin'  new 
kinds  o'  meannesses.  What  a  mess  o'  evil  he 
done  thar  ain't  no  way  o'  knowing  but  he's  come 
to  the  end  o'  his  rope  now.  I'll  be  boun'  on 


At  Cape  Peril  247 

that.  Mo'n  one  man,  lads,  starts  a-skyrocketin' 
and  ends  a  coal-chutin'.  It's  the  way  a  man 
ends  —  not  speakin'  o'  bow-legs  —  that  counts. 
Always  have  a  good  end  in  mind  and  you  won't 
never  go  wrong.  That's  what  you  scouts  is  fer, 
ain't  it?  " 

"  That's  our  oath,"  declared  Legs  solemnly. 

Cap'n  Buffum  paused  long  enough  to  re-light 
his  pipe  and  take  a  few  puffs.  The  operation 
seemed  to  change  the  trend  of  his  thoughts  and 
he  proceeded  with  the  utmost  good-humor,  "A 
lively  time,  lads,  you've  had  fer  a  picnic.  I 
b'lieve  it  beats,  so  fer  as  quickness  of  action  is 
consarned,  any  sea  tale  I  got  in  my  locker.  I 
never  knowed  so  much  to  happen  in  twenty-four 
hours  befo'  in  peace  times  on  a  picnic,  but,  fer 
all  the  dangers  me  and  you  have  been  through, 
they  ain't  no  thin'  to  what  I'm  facin'  this  hyuh 
minute."  The  old  man's  face  suddenly  became 
solemn. 

11  Not  afraid  Bill  Perkins  will  break  loose,  are 
you?  "  asked  Gat. 

"  I  ain't  afraid  er  nothin  dead  er  alive,"  he 
returned  promptly,  and  then  added,  "  exceptin' 
one.  I  kin  face  everything  that  give  me  a  fair 


248  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

show  that's  live  and,  as  fer  the  dead,  I  kin 
handle  easy  all  the  sperits  I  ever  seen.  But  it's 
sumpin*  else  a-pesterin'  me.  You  recollec'  I  tol' 
you  about  what  war  lef  o'  a  gal  I  had  once. 
Well  that  very  evenin',  day  befo'  yestiddy  it 
war,  I  got  a  letter.  It  begun  with  one  'o  them 
healths  repo  'ts.  '  I  hev  gained  ten  pounds  since  I 
saw  you,  Bill,  and  I'm  eatin'  my  heart  out  fer 
you '.  Says  I ,  when  I  reads  that,  ef  it  agree  with 
er  that  good,  she  better  keep  on  a-eatin'  and  thar 
ain't  no  tellin'  to  what  dimensions  she'll  swell 
to.  Then  come  the  bombshell,  lads,  when  she 
continue,  *  I'm  a-comin'  down  to  a  picnic  in  the 
fishwagon  next  Saturday  week,  just  me  and  a 
basket,  and  me  and  you  can  set  on  the  sand  and 
eat  fried  chicken  and  pull  the  wishbone  and  talk 
old  times  together.  Ef  my  head  is  gray,  my 
heart  is  evergreen.' 

"  Lads,  the  way  I  feel  when  Bill  Perkins  knot 
me  up  warn't  nothin'  to  the  aggravated  feelin'  I 
has  when  I  sets  eyes  on  them  words.  But  no 
fried  chicken  ner  broiled  nuther,  with  or  without 
wishbones,  ain't  a-goin*  to  tear  me  from  this 
hyuh  light.  It's  my  duty,  this  hyuh  light 
is,  and,  blister  my  boots,  duty  is  the  almighti- 


At  Cape  Peril  249 

est  word  in  the  whole  English  language, 
or  the  Chinese  either,  I  reckon.  It's  the  bes' 
motto  to  live  by,  and,  when  yon  casts  yo'  las 
rope,  ain't  nothin'  like  it  fer  to  give  you  a 
smooth  passage. 

"  You're  them  things  they  calls  scouts,  and 
you  hev  proved  you  kin  hoi'  yo'  own  with  any 
man  that  ever  shaved  a  whisker  er  let  'em  grow 
either.  Keep  a  scoutin'  straight,  and  thar  ain't 
nothin'  goin'  to  down  you  nowhar.  Take  Bill 
Buffum's  word  fer  it." 

After  a  few  more  words  and  repeated  prom- 
ises to  return  before  long,  the  lads  were  off  on 
their  way  back  to  Seagulls'  Nest. 

"  When  I  get  old  and  all  my  children  get  mar- 
ried," remarked  Jimmy  prospectively  as  they 
trudged  along,  "  blessed  if  I  don't  keep  a  light- 
house. He's  the  happiest  old  geezer  I  ever 
saw." 

"  Da-da-da-da-da!  "  hummed  Cat,  with  a  gibe 
in  his  eyes. 

"  What '11  your  wife  be  doing?  "  asked  Legs. 

"  She  can  keep  one,  too,  and  we  can  talk  by 
wireless.  No  telling  what  women  will  be  doing 
by  the  time  I  get  old  and  greybearded. " 


250  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

Cat  chortled. 

"Say,  Jimmy,"  he  joked,  "  if  you  get  one  of 
those  tall  ones,  she'll  reach  over  and  haul  you 
out  without  standing  on  tiptoe." 

"  You  better  be  satisfied  if  you  can  get  one 
any  size  with  that  mouth,"  Jimmy  retorted. 

But  as  boys  are  not  usually  oversensitive 
about  their  mis-features,  all  three  reached  the 
house  without  bloodshed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

EXIT    THE    SEABOARD   AIRLINE    PATROL 

Some  hours  later,  the  Hatton  motor  was  wait- 
ing for  its  three  passengers  at  the  end  of  the 
road  by  the  sea.  Brisk  as  bees  and  as  noisy  as  a 
brass  band,  the  youngsters  had  been  stirring 
around  packing  up  their  shark's  teeth  and  other 
mementoes.  This  occupation  was  interrupted  by 
Hardy  with  a  proposition  that  met  with  loud 
approval. 

"  Stop  just  one  minute.  We've  got  to  have  a 
small-sized  ten  minute  jamboree  before  you  boys 
go,  with  a  pledge  and  promise  you'll  come  again 
for  a  rest  cure,  just  fishing  and  swimming  and 
such  quiet  parlor  sports.  I'll  promise  your  par- 
ents to  have  every  villain  exterminated  from  the 
county. ' ' 

"  Just  keep  one  or  two  loose,'*  suggested  Cat 
with  a  grin.  "  We  don't  want  to  go  stale." 

"  You'd  go  something  worse  than  that  with  a 
few  more  nights  like  that  wild  one  we  managed 
to  live  through.  But  here  comes  Luke  with  the 

251 


252  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

cakes  and  ginger  ale  for  a  fast  pledge  and 
promise. '  * 

With  a  whoop  the  scouts  crowded  around  the 
refreshments,  and,  glasses  in  hand,  listened  to  an 
announcement  from  Hardy:  "  Last  night  to 
soothe  myself,  so  I  could  get  to  sleep  after  all 
the  excitement,  I  scribbled  off  some  little  verses 
which  are  appropriate  to  each  of  the  three  young 
Scoutlets  toasted  —  You  get  what  I  mean,  I 
hope,"  he  interrupted  with  a  laugh,  "  You'll  find 
them  highly  complimentary.  Now  here's  to 
Miller  first": 

With  great  applause  all  glasses  were  raised. 

"  Here's  to  Cat  Miller,  a  taking  young  fellow, 
He  never  gets  blue  and  rarely  shows  yellow; 
He  flies  in  the  sky  and  he  dives  in  the  ocean, 
And  flirts  with  a  shark  when  struck  by  the  notion. 
He  craftily  trails  on  a  crook  in  the  night, 
But  yells  like  a  wildcat  when  faced  by  a  light." 

"  Pretty  tough  on  a  brave  scout,"  declared 
Cat,  pretending  indignation,  while  the  other  two 
applauded  vociferously. 

"  You  get  off  easy  in  this  Knockers'  Club," 
asserted  Hardy.  "  Listen  at  this.  Glasses  up! 


At  Cape  Peril  253 

"  Now  the  next  of  this  gang  that  the  poet  will  chat  on, 
Is  a  fellow  who's  known  for  keeping  his  Hatt-on; 
In  meat,  he  is  rich  and  in  brains  he  is  rare, 
And,  as  to  his  legs,  he  has  nothing  to  spare; 
He  has  aeroed  by  day  and  motored  by  night, 
Though  everyone  saw  he  was  pallid  with  fright." 

This  brought  whoops  from  Cat  and  Jimmy  and 
a  slightly  pained  look  from  the  sensitive  Legs. 
' '  Cheer  up,  Legs,  and  listen  to  the  dose  Jimmy 


"  Now  here's  to  that  bold  young  adventurer  Jimmy, 
Though  he's  long  on  his  tongue  he  can't  be  called 

limby ; 

The  wind  and  the  waves  had  to  give  him  a  wide  row, 
When  he  jumped  over  Herring  one  night  in  a  hydro ; 
And  now,  meeting  people,  he  tries  hard  to  stuff  'em, 
By  claiming  he's  rescued  a  sailor  named  Buffum." 

Jimmy  here  got  all  that  was  coming  to  him 
from  his  two  chums,  and  the  ginger-ale  went  its 
way  merrily. 

"  Now,  look  here,  fellows,"  exhorted  Hardy, 
"  Hope  you  didn't  take  that  seriously?  I  meant 
just  the  opposite,  didn't  I,  Turner?  You're  the 
swellest  lot  of  chaps  I  know,  but  I  just  wanted  to 
see  how  you'd  take  a  little  merry  knocking. 


254  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

You've  got  to  take  a  lot  of  it  later,  and  maybe 
it's  a  good  thing  to  keep  chaps  from  getting  the 
swell-head.  You  know  some  freshmen  in  college 
have  to  be  taken  down  a  peg  for  their  own  good. 
Get  me?  " 

The  boys  took  the  lesson  in  good  part,  and  the 
jollity  went  on  till  the  refreshments  were 
exhausted.  Then  the  lads  were  off  to  get  their 
packs  in  final  trim. 

Jimmy  was  the  first  to  finish  and  make  his 
appearance.  He  took  his  seat  at  the  table  and 
began  to  scribble,  when  Turner,  who  had  been 
chatting  with  Hardy  on  the  porch,  came  in. 

"  Look  here,  Jimmy,"  he  asked,  "  just  a  little 
curiosity  on  my  part,  but,  if  I  swear  not  to  let  it 
out,  can't  you  tell  me  what  shut  Cat  Miller  up  so 
quick  the  other  day  when  he  thought  he  had  the 
joke  on  you  about  the  whales'  egg?  " 

"  Sure  I'll  tell  you  if  you  won't  give  it  away," 
said  Jimmy,  looking  up  slyly  from  his  paper. 
"  You  see,  Cat's  people  didn't  move  to  Newport 
News  till  he  was  about  seven  years  old.  Well,  I 
ran  across  a  fellow  at  the  Springs  from  the  town 
Cat  lived  in  before  and  he  let  it  out  that  Cat's 
mother  used  to  call  him  '  Buttercup  '  when  he 


At  Cape  Peril  255 

was  a  baby  and  kept  on  calling  him  that  till  he 
was  about  seven,  and  then  they  christened  him 
Alonzo.  Wouldn't  that  jar  you?  So  when  Cat 
tries  any  monkey  business  on  me,  I  just  buzz 
*  Buttercup  '  in  his  ear,  and  he  shuts  up  like  a 
clam.  'Course  I'm  not  going  to  squeal  on  him, 
but  it  don't  hurt  to  have  some  ammunition  handy 
to  make  your  friends  behave,  does  it!  " 

"  You're  sure  right,"  laughed  Turner.  "  But- 
tercup! If  that  ain't  a  rich  one!  Butternut,  I'll 
say.  It  sure  is  one  rich  handle  to  a  modest  mug. 
Don't  worry,  I'll  keep  it  tight." 

He  went  off  chuckling  to  himself,  and,  for  the 
next  week  every  time  Cat's  face  rose  in  his  mind 
and  he  thought  of  the  endearing  name,  he 
chuckled  again. 

A  few  minutes  later  when  Cat  and  Legs  came 
bounding  down  the  stairway  swinging  their 
knapsacks,  they  found  Jimmy  still  engaged  with 
the  paper. 

"All  ready  for  the  home  run,"  shouted  Cat, 
grabbing  at  the  writer's  collar.  "  Come  on, 
Jimmy!  Eh,  what  you  doing  there?  Writing  a 
letter  to  the  shark's  grandma  to  tell  her  about 
her  grandson's  funeral?  " 


256  The  Boy  Scouts  of  the  Air 

"  One  second, "  insisted  the  "writer,  as  he 
added  a  final  word  to  his  composition.  "  Listen 
to  this,"  he  added,  rising  and  holding  the  sheet 
of  paper  out  in  front  of  him. 

"  Golly,  it's  some  of  that  limber  Rick  stuff," 
noted  Legs,  peeping  over. 

"  We  sure  are  getting  poetry  showers  to-day. 
Sing  on,  oh  muse!  "  Cat  baited  him. 

"  Shut  up,  listen,"  demanded  Jimmy,  "  and 
then  I'm  with  you  — 

"  The  Seaboard  Airline  Patrol 

Has  rescued  a  yacht  from  a  shoal; 

It  has  swatted  a  shark; 

Winged  a  crook,  on  a  lark, 
And  copped  a  Chief's  bones  in  a  hole." 

"  That's  not  rough  on  you  like  Hardy's  stuff," 
approved  Cat.  "  We'll  send  that  to  the  paper  for 
that  write-up.  Now,  for  home,  boy,  home  and 
glory!" 

And  a  few  minutes  later,  the  three  merry 
scouts  were  having  a  hilarious  time  of  it  in  the 
motor  speeding  homeward. 

THE  END 


QL 


Date:     Tue,  17  Sep  91  12: Ol  PDT 

To:       ECL4BAT 

Subject:  SRLF  PAGING  REQUEST 


Deliver  to 
Shelving  # 


UCSD  CENTRAL 

A   000  034  418  4 


Item  Information 

Stuart/  Gordon/  pseud. 

The  boy  scouts  of  the  air  at  Cape  Per 

Item 

ORION  #   :  2771 

Requester  Informa 

Unit  :  UNKN 
Terminal  : 

User  Information 

Name  :  inness 
Lib  card  :  grad/lit 

Phone  : 
Address  :  0175-u 


"3  1158  01135  9535 


UCSOUTHERN 


A     0000344™   " 


